


Don't Hesitate

by minniegguk



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, jeongcheol - Freeform, meanie, soonchan, verkwan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 88,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minniegguk/pseuds/minniegguk
Summary: There are three notorious motorcycle gangs that run the whole of Seoul, the King Riders, the Rockets, and the Neon Boys. Their rules are: don't cross turfs, don't meet with rival riders in secret, and do not go against your own crew, but what will happen when these rules are broken? Will the three come together, or will there be war?(a seventeen motorcycle gang au)





	1. When I Win

**Author's Note:**

> We were HEAVILY inspired by call call call and knew we had to write our own fic from it, so let us know what you think of it! :)
> 
> We also posted the first chapter on our [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/minniegguk)
> 
> Also, we created a [padlet](https://padlet.com/mmxchi/a0h8t0lcn4ne) for some helpful visuals xoxo

— May -- Seoul -- Gwangjin Gu 

There were two figures underneath the traffic light. Even though it was past 2 am, this was Seoul, so a small number of people were still passing down the streets, and every so often a car would fly by, though it wasn't too much so Mingyu hadn't to worry about dodging other cars or pissing people off.

 

He squinted his eyes as a small, sweet breeze gently hit whilst he looked to the left of him. He had rested his eyes on the slender male seated on his bike, who was zipping up his usual tattered leather jacket. The Rocket's trademark clothes. Minghao's was a black one, silver buttons decorating the lapel and shoulders. It was a complete contrast to the King Riders who dressed in sharp suits. Mingyu's, as of now, was a forest green blazer over a checkered waistcoat. Not the best choice of clothing to ride in but as long as they looked good, the King Riders would take the risk.

 

It had been a while since Mingyu had gotten to actually race someone, nevermind race someone who was a 'rival'. So as he had stood there at two in the morning, on forbidden turf claimed by the Rockets, and beside one of their riders, he felt alive.

 

Yes, it had seemed stupid to him that he was doing this all for a potential free tattoo, however, when Mingyu had wanted something, he'd go to any sort of lengths to get it. He'd known that crossing turfs meant death, or arguably something worse depending on who's turf you were crossing...

 

Yet he didn't care.

 

"So... when I win this race, you'll do me the tattoo I wanted for free, yeah?" Mingyu asked once again just to clarify; he didn't want to be winning a race for a prize he wasn't quite sure he was competing for. Plus, he knew what Minghao was like: he wasn't afraid to change his mind when he had felt like it. 

 

Mingyu kept his eyes on Minghao and flashed a shameless smirk. He had noticed that Minghao almost seemed relaxed and unphased by what they were doing. He was sitting on his motorcycle, but only half sitting, really. Only one hand was on the handlebar and he was basically facing Mingyu with his body. Meanwhile, Mingyu was bursting with excitement and adrenaline, he sat on his vehicle so ready to go that he even had his helmet on.

 

Minghao rolled his eyes, "I'm only doing this because you kept getting on me and people were starting to notice, so don't think I'll do you any more tattoos. That's if you win of course," he had said and Mingyu rewarded the older with a scoff even though he knew it went unnoticed by Minghao, seeing as both bikes had their engines on and grumbling lowly. It was the only thing that could be heard in the middle of Neungdong-ro's streets.

 

"When I win, that's what you'll give me. Then we can go back to being after each other's blood again." Mingyu refused to give in to Minghao's discouragement. He had seen Minghao race a few times and it was clear that he knew exactly what he was doing and more, but then again so did Mingyu.

 

"Yeah, but if I win, you can do the tattoo yourself and you have to find enough pot to last me two weeks and I pay you nothing for it. I don't care where you get it from, just make sure it's good shit." Minghao returned the same smirk Mingyu had thrown at him before.

 

"Two weeks worth," Mingyu mumbled. Now he knew it was essential that he won this race; there was only one source he knew he could get what he needed from and that was fellow King Rider, Seungkwan. Mingyu had never asked for drugs from Seungkwan. Ever. So there'd be no question that Seungkwan would grow suspicious of Mingyu coming out of nowhere and asking for a gram of weed from him. Plus, this was still a business Seungkwan ran, so Mingyu knew that just because he and Seungkwan were intimate friends, it didn't mean he could get out of paying for Minghao's goods. So in summary, it would be a lot of work to give Minghao what he wanted if he won, as well as a risk of Seungkwan finding out about what Mingyu was doing right now. Without question, Mingyu knew it was going to be a task. 

 

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Minghao had replied coolly and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and another soft gust of air played with the male's black hair. Secretly Mingyu was jealous of how Minghao could pull of a hair length that stopped at the bottom of his neck, but he was pretty sure every man envied this about Minghao.

 

"Easy for you to say," Mingyu had said bitterly under his breath, which earned a short chuckle from Minghao before he composed himself back into his laid-back manner. 

 

"I thought you were confident you'd win this thing so why are you worried?" Minghao grabbed the goggles that had sat on his helmet and pulled them down over his brazen eyes, "Don't pussy out now, Mingyu," he had said before he gripped the handlebars of his motorbike, which was Honda, of course. Every Rocket rode a Honda bike, just like every King Rider, including Mingyu himself, rode a Vespa, or how the Neon Boys rode Suzukis. There were plenty of ways to distinguish between the three groups.

 

Mingyu had cursed under his breath before asking, "Here to Jayang-ro, yeah?" It was Mingyu's request to race, but it was Minghao who had organised the actual route and location. If Mingyu had his way, he wouldn't have been crossing turfs and risking his own life just to get here. Meaning he had to double check he would be going the right way; it would've been embarrassing to take the wrong turn. Not that Mingyu had ever done that before, of course.

 

"Yeah, but you do know you'll be fucking dead if you get spotted in Wonwoo's streets don't you?" Minghao had been forced to raise his voice over the engines that were louder now, and Mingyu had almost struggled to make out what he was saying.

 

"Then I'll have to make sure I don't get caught," Mingyu had replied, matching his volume, before revving his engine, waiting for the red light above to switch to green.

 

"Well, good luck, man, because I want that fucking weed," Minghao said whilst he kept his focus on the traffic light. Which was the right thing to do because Mingyu, on the other hand, had kept his view on Minghao when he had been talking, so the only reason he knew it was time to go was that he had seen the well anticipated green light reflect onto Minghao's face. 

 

In a rush of panic, Mingyu had whipped his head forward to the empty road ahead. He had let his bike walk to start off before it darted forward. Clouds of smoke from the throttling exhaust pipes blanked out all sight of the two racing down the open road. 

 

 

 

— May -- Seoul -- Seongbuk Gu -- Moon's Arcade 

"This isn't fair!" Chan watched in amusement as Hansol slammed his hands on the arcade machine in fury, almost flying off the stool he was sitting on as he did. Of course, Hansol's reaction was slightly over-dramatic, most likely because he'd smoked so much weed before, but it only helped Chan to enjoy his responses more. Either Chan's high score was something untouchable, or Hansol was so stoned he couldn't get past the first level. Chan had chosen the first option.

 

"Give up, hyung! You can't beat me, especially when you're totally blown out. How are you even able to put a coin in the slot, nevermind play the actual game?" Chan joked as he rested his small hands on Hansol's shoulders from behind and looked at the screen with pride. The only reason they were messing around in Junhui's arcade when it would've normally shut down at this time, was that Jisoo had just been fully patched into the group that day, and this was their way of 'celebrating'. Although in truth, it was more of an excuse for two kids to get high and play video games.

 

"Blame Kwannie; he's the one who gave me extra today," Hansol had slurred, and Chan was just glad Junhui was out running an errand and not here because if he was, Hansol would've been pinned up against that arcade machine and threatened about meeting up with members from other groups. Although that would've set a good example for newbie Jisoo.

 

"Kwannie?" Jisoo's quiet, polite voice perked up from the motorcycle game he was sitting on across the room. It was hard for Chan to even spot him in the dimly lit arcade room. In fact, the only actual sources of light came from the vibrant neon signs placed thoughtfully on some walls as well as the ones that outlined every other arcade machine, and of course the illuminating screens of these machines. Plus, it didn't help that Jisoo's bomber jacket was a dark maroon colour. If his back was facing Chan, it would've been much easier for him to be seen since he'd just got the Neon Boys patch on the back of his jacket. The design was a blue and neon outline of a diamond that glowed nice and brightly. It was one way of staying visible whilst they were on the roads with such a fluorescent choice, but it was also another way to add to Junhui's aesthetic since he was literally stuck in the 80s. If anyone who had walked into his arcade couldn't already tell.

 

"Seungkwan," Hansol replied to Jisoo.

 

"Oh, so he has a nickname now," Chan teased through mischevious giggles and ruffled Hansol's soft, dirty-blonde hair. He was the first and only one to find out that Hansol snook out when he could to meet up with Boo Seungkwan. Every time he'd say it was to get some more of his weed, but Chan had guessed by now that Hansol enjoyed Seungkwan's company as well as his drugs. It was pretty obvious when Hansol would show up to the arcade with not only another new bag of green hidden in his jacket but an unusual smile on his face too. All Chan could do was hope Junhui would forever be too busy to notice this, otherwise, Hansol would no longer be allowed to call himself a Neon Boy and Seungkwan would no doubt be punished too.

 

"Shut up, he's just my dealer." Hansol looked up above his shoulder to Chan with a scowl on his face and gently elbowed him. Chan had stepped back slightly to over-dramatically clutch his stomach where Hansol had elbowed him, and let out another giggle.

 

"He's also our rival so don't get so attached to him or Junhui will soon find out," Chan warned. He felt like the biggest hypocrite in Seoul when he had said that to Hasnol; he had been disappearing without telling anybody just to meet with Soonyoung, who was also a King Rider like Seungkwan. It wasn't anything romantic. Well, excluding that one time Chan had felt his cheeks warm up when Soonyoung's gaze rested on Chan for a little longer than usual, but he blamed that on the fact it was a hot day and Chan's Neon Boy jacket was a huge fucking denim one that he guessed was making him warm. All in all, Chan was simply close friends with Soonyoung and he enjoyed to talk and ride with him. Plus, Chan could retain information about the King Riders from Soonyoung and it helped him become more aware of what was going on. Because of his age, Chan was usually not taken as seriously, and so information and news would often be forgotten to be passed down to him, which was admittedly frustrating, but Soonyoung was one of few who treated Chan just like anyone else despite his age, and perhaps that was why he took such a strong liking to Soonyoung.

 

"Junhui won't find out because I'm not getting attached. I know what I'm doing, Channie, it's all just business with Seungkwan, I promise," Hansol spoke slowly though his words didn't seem genuine. He was high, after all, and Hansol was clearly struggling to make his lies sound truthful thanks to his permanent smirk and unintentional giggles. Before Chan could fire back, Jisoo spoke up again with another question. Chan had noticed how Jisoo was always full of questions, but he decided to shake it off and tell himself Jisoo was just curious as a new member. After all, Jisoo seemed to have little to no experience with this gang lifestyle which of course subconsciously would have led to many questions left rattling his small innocent head. 

 

"You converse with rival members?"

 

"Just one. One is enough," Hansol had said before clumsily picking up the clear plastic wallet that had been lying on the arcade machine, it had barely any of the green substance left, "Want some?" He flashed a lazy smile and shook the bag. Chan watched Jisoo's expression and it was -- interesting. It could've just been the second-hand fumes from the blunts Hansol had been smoking that Chan was inhaling in the stuffy arcade room, but he was sure he saw worry and panic behind Jisoo's usually sparkling bright eyes.

 

"I'm okay, thanks." Jisoo had waved Hansol off and Hansol asked him if he did any drugs at all. Jisoo shrugged and shook his head, "Not really into that stuff," he replied almost instantly. Hansol scoffed with a smile and emptied the contents into his large palm.

 

"You're missing out, man." Chan nodded his head in agreement.

 

"Where did Junhui go, anyway? He's been gone for, like, two hours now," Jisoo switched the subject and shuffled on the motorcycle seat he was sitting backwards on. Come to think of it, where was-

 

The loud tune of 'Hotline Bling' interrupted Chan's thoughts and Hansol instantly began to sing along. His phone had begun to ring. Speaking of the devil, it was Junhui. Chan refused to let Hansol, in the state he was in, take responsibility for whatever Junhui had to say, so he scrambled for the phone, that was resting on the arcade game, first. Good job Hansol's reactions were slow when he was blazed.

 

"여보세요? (yeoboseyo)" Chan put the phone on speaker so everyone could hear. As quiet as they could, the other two gathered around the phone rested on the palm of Chan's hand.

 

"I need you all at Jungnang Gu right now. We have visitors." Junhui's urgent voice was muffled by the purring of multiple bike engines on the other side, but Chan was luckily just able to make out what he said which was fortunate because it didn't seem like Junhui was up for repeating things.

 

"On our way, hyung," Chan had replied an hung up. He had passed the phone back to Hansol and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. "We gotta get down to Jungnang Gu," Chan had ordered and began to make his way out the arcade, switching off the lights as he did.

 

"But Hansol's brain is off in fucking wonderland!" Jisoo called from behind. Why, there was no arguing that he wasn't wrong, only when Junhui wanted everyone at Jungnang Gu ASp, he wanted everyone at Jungnang Gu ASAP.

 

"Wouldn't be the first time I've ridden like this, man," Hansol had reassured the older and patted him on the back, and Chan let out a small chuckle at his hyung's outrageous state.

 

Once the three had left out the back entrance of 'Moon's Arcade' and gotten to their motorbikes, Chan decided it seemed like a safer idea to lead instead of Hansol, even though he was second in command. Otherwise, they could all end up driving into Han River, and Chan would rather him and his whole crew get thrown into prison for a couple of years than for them to freeze to death in a river at almost 3 am.

 

"Welcome to the family, Jisoo hyung," Chan said over his shoulder as he climbed over his white Suzuki and started it up. He watched a small smirk spark on Jisoo's moonlit face.

 

"I'm loving it already."

 

 

 

— May -- Seoul -- Songpa Gu 

It was times like these when Soonyoung had wished he could speed up the time. He and Seungkwan had been waiting for almost half an hour in some cold and desolate parking lot structure when, actually, the man they were waiting for should've been here before the two had even arrived. This parking lot was quite popular for meetups and dealings, so Soonyoung guessed this guy couldn't have been lost. Though if he was, Soonyoung would surely let his rage take over and make sure this person never got lost again. So it was fair to say that Soonyoung was pissed.

 

Whilst he leant his back on the wall that went around the edge of the building and carried on to tap his foot rapidly, Seungkwan was beside him with his elbows rested on the wall as he looked at the empty streets below. They were on the third floor, although Soonyoung had insisted on going to the top, of course, Seungkwan completely refused to go any higher. There was no way Soonyoung was winning against Seungkwan's pouty face and consistent whines. 

 

Usually, Soonyoung would find this silence quite relaxing where only the faint whispers from the cars rushing past below could be heard, as well as Seungkwans small hums every so often, but no. Soonyoung was feeling impatient and this had meant that everything was starting to irritate him. Even the person they were waiting for, who he hadn't even met yet, was fuelling his anger. There were many examples in the past of when Soonyoung's anger had gotten the better of him, hopefully, this wouldn't be one of them.

 

"Any sign of him?" Soonyoung's low voice resonated throughout the parking lot as he looked across to Seungkwan, who was to the left of him. The younger male gave him his large eyes that reflected the pale moonlight, even though they seemed to be filled with concern. 

 

"Nope. I think he's forgotten, hyu-" As if on cue, the long-awaited man had finally decided to arrive. As the rumble of the engine quickly made it's way up the ramps of the parking lot, Soonyoung got to his bike, seeing in the corner of his vision that Seungkwan had too. 

 

Time to get the job done and leave this place as soon as possible.

 

It wasn't long before a black van had messily parked itself in front of the two with a loud squeaking of the tyres as the break was engaged. A sharp-suited man with black hair made his way out and around the van to the back where he flung open the doors, welcoming the two impatient looking men to feast their eyes on the goods they had been waiting for. 

 

It didn't matter who the man was, in fact, Soonyoung didn't even know his name, all he knew was that he worked in Busan and was here to give Soonyoung and Seungkwan the shipment of weapons from Busan port. Seungcheol, of course, would've known this guy; he knew every man on the streets in South Korea. 

 

"Is everything here?" Seungkwan had asked sternly and started examining the weapons. Soonyoung could tell Seungkwan was feeling the same way too as he watched how eager and quick he had moved through them all.

 

"I fucking hope so," Soonyoung mumbled to himself. If there was at least one gun missing from this shipment, Soonyoung and Seungkwan would certainly be on the receiving end of Seungcheol's gun after leaving the provider on the receiving end of their own, no doubt.

 

"Yup, everything's here. But..." Soonyoung watched with a raised brow as the man had hopped onto the floor again and made his way so he was stood dangerously close to Seungkwan. Seungkwan's expression darkened and Soonyoung could feel the negative shift in atmosphere, so he slowly moved his hand to touch his metal baseball bat that was hanging from his belt. 

 

Just in case.

 

"Y'know... I don't think you're paying me enough for this How about we make this a bit fairer?" And that was the last thing that had gotten to Soonyoung before he snapped, slipping the bat out with one hand in one swift motion, whilst the other shoved the man's shoulder with immense force until his back hit one of the pillars. A loud slam followed by a painful grunt was heard before Soonyoung began.

 

"I think you're getting just enough cash. Unless you wanna pay for your plastic surgery after I fuck up your face with this?" Soonyoung had raised the bat so it was now in the man's face and he couldn't help but let a little smirk slip, "Then we'll give you more money, but I don't think you'll want that, will you?" His voice was so deep and angry, Soonyoung almost resembled a tiger. He relished in the moment of watching the man's eyes reflect his fear no matter how hard he was trying to hide it, and when he didn't answer, Soonyoung slammed his palm on the pillar that he had been leaning on above the man's shoulder. He let out another roar, making sure he was especially louder this time, "WILL YOU?!" He watched the man almost jump underneath his frame as he slightly threw his arm back that was holding the bat, as if he were about to hit it off the man's skull.

 

Oh, how he had wanted to.

 

"No... I wouldn't sir," he replied. His voice had an underlying tone of sarcasm that hadn't gone unnoticed by Soonyoung, but he had answered and that was all that mattered. Even though he wouldn't have minded beating someone up, Soonyoung had decided he should step back now, putting his infamous weapon back in it's home so he can save it for another day. The guy, (that he hoped he'd taught a lesson to after that), patted down his navy suit, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves and clearing his throat. Soonyoung was able to see that it wasn't the first time this man had been treated like that, he was clearly quite low down in the rankings and was used to being blackmailed daily. It was evident with how calm he'd seemed as Soonyoung went back to checking the guns with Seungkwan.

 

At least one thing was going right today as all the guns seemed to be present. 

 

"Where the fuck is Mingyu? We can't get these back to base until he gets here with the van," Seungkwan had said and reminded Soonyoung, causing the male to have perhaps slammed one of the guns a little too hard with frustration. He looked up to Seungkwan, rage bubbling inside of his chest again.

 

Why was nobody on time?!

 

With a huff, Soonyoung looked up to the ceiling. Now Mingyu was the one who'd have Soonyoung's gun pressed on his temple. 

 

"We can't waste any more time than we already have." Soonyoung glared back over his shoulder to the man who'd made them wait and watched the man scrunch his brows. "Ring Seungcheol," he had ordered as he spun his head back to Seungkwan's direction. Seungkwan's face flashed with worry but he did as Soonyoung told him to anyway and slid his phone out of the front pocket of his black jeans. Soonyoung had stood there with his arms crossed over his chest and peaking his vision back and forth to the guns in the van and Seungkwan. On the second ring, Seungcheol picked up.

 

"Seungcheol? We've got a problem."


	2. Sucker Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go so well for Mingyu but now Chan has a new weapon of choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #JUSTICE4MINGYU (we rlly do feel bad for doing this to poor mingyu lmao)
> 
> Finally, it's here! We're sorry it took so long but now it’s the summer holidays for us so we should be able to get a lot more done! <3
> 
>  
> 
> [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/minniegguk)  
> [padlet](https://padlet.com/mmxchi/a0h8t0lcn4ne)

**—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Jungnang Gu_**

Junhui had stood beside his bike outside the convenience store that had been closed down until the sun rose again. It was that time in the early AM when he didn't want to be here. When the streets were deadly silent and he felt completely alone. Except he wasn't. In front of him was a man he'd seen before only this time he was giving Junhui a deathly stare. Already Mingyu had tried to justify his case though it wasn't working for Junhui.

 

 

He was far from happy. 

 

 

When he'd left to visit the garage he usually visited in Jungnang district for any fixups with his bike, he wasn't expecting that on his way back he'd catch Kim Mingyu in the middle of an intense match of who's bike is faster. Annoyingly, he was unable to catch the other rat as he was further ahead and was going  _much_  quicker. Hopefully, he'd get it out of Mingyu who it was anyways. The only problem there seemed to be was that Junhui was probably the worst man when it came to intimidating others. It really wasn't helpful, especially now. He let out a deep sigh, taking a look up at the momentarily dark soothing sky before bringing his eyes back down to Mingyu who Junhui had managed to corner to the wall of the store.

 

 

"This is the second time I've caught a King Rider on my turf. That means, unlucky for you, I'm not letting you go so easily," Junhui stated. He had made sure the anger was clear to Mingyu in his tone and he kept his scorching glare on him. Last time Junhui had seen one of Seungcheol's men on his turf was when he'd noticed Boo Seungkwan sneaking through his streets. Luckily Junhui had managed to catch him out when he was riding though Dongdaemun district. Although Seungkwan had never spilt to Junhui what he was doing there and where he was going, which still irritated Junhui to this day. It was a good job he had been feeling kind that day, as he let the younger live and gave him a simple yet alarming warning. However, this time wasn't going to be the same; Junhui was in less of a kind mood. In fairness, he was pretty pissed seeing as the mechanic had done a pitiful job on his beloved bike.

 

 

Mingyu leaned forward on his bike in a desperate attempt to persuade Junhui he was innocent. "But that wasn't me!" Junhui noted the sudden increase in volume as Mingyu's deep voice resonated across the boulevard. "I told you Junhui, we didn't realise we were on your grounds," Mingyu had whined like a puppy, yet Junhui managed to hold his grudge. He could see Mingyu was desperate for forgiveness and he was telling Junhui the complete truth.

 

 

"Yeah? And who exactly were you with?" Junhui  _needed_  answers. His guess was that Mingyu was racing one of Wonwoo's men seeing as they were wearing a leather jacket. If only it had been daytime and he would've been able to see if the Rocket's patch was stitched onto the back of it to confirm this. All he needed was a name from Mingyu... but he said nothing. Instead, he sat on his green bike and stared at the floor, pouting like a guilty child. Junhui had huffed and stood up straight from where he had been leaning on the side of his motorbike. "Mingyu if you don't tell me, my boys will be here soon and I won't hold them back from you," he threatened and gestured to the road beside the two that his members would be coming from hopefully soon. If he wanted to set an example for others to not step foot in his area, this was the best way.

 

 

"I don't give a shit," Mingyu snarled through gritted teeth, still refusing to look up. Every time Mingyu dodged his question, Junhui felt his patience ever so slowly wasting away and being replaced with frustration. Strangely enough, Junhui didn't enjoy feeling angry -- he was much more laid-back compared to others. Which was potentially the reason why his turf was always trodden on by rivals.

 

 

"Mingyu..." He started. Unhurried, Junhui paced closer towards him and then stopped at the front of Mingyu's bike. He gripped the handlebars. Not even the sound of a car flying down the road behind him could break Junhui from the intense glare he had locked on Mingyu who's eyes were stubbornly glued to the ground. However after a few more seconds, finally, Mingyu lifted his head back up and looked back at Junhui. Slowly his lips parted and Junhui waited for the name he had been interrogating this man for.

 

 

"Fuck you." Dammit. This one's willful.

 

 

Before Junhui could've come up with more ways to scare the answer out of Mingyu, a roar of motorbikes came from down the street. Junhui had leaned to the right to gain a full view of the long road ahead and he spotted three Suzukis. Their white headlights beaming straight onto him. The three slowed down as they pulled in to glide along the path until the engines stopped. It didn't look like Junhui was getting a name from Mingyu so that meant only one thing. 

 

 

"Kim Mingyu," Chan had announced with a smirk and knocked the small kickstand out with his foot to allow his bike to stabilise and stand freely. He stepped closer to the scene. "Fancy seeing you here." Junhui knew he hadn't to tell his members why they'd been called here, so he made his way back to his bike and watched his most trusted fighter begin. 

 

 

Chan brought his helmet from under his arm and at first, Junhui was confused until he swung his arm outwards to let the white heavy helmet in his hand whack Mingyu straight across the jawline with amazing power. Junhui heard the connection. He also heard Hansol's excited reaction as he jumped in his seat. Chan must've put a lot of force into the blow because, with a painful groan, Mingyu stumbled off his bike. He threw his tattoed hands over his jaw and bent over -- most likely because he'd be seeing stars.

 

 

"Fucking headgear! Really?" Mingyu chuckled lowly and shook his head, rubbing his now badly bruised jaw. Chan was certainly - creative.

 

 

"Perhaps you should've kept yours on," Chan shrugged his shoulders and flashed a mischevious grin. Carefully, Mingyu straightened up.

 

 

"Fucking brat kid!" He had spat before throwing a fist to Chan which he had managed to dodge and then return the hit straight to Mingyu's cheekbone. Another hard thud could be heard. Seeing as he was probably still dizzy from the first blow, Mingyu completely lost his balance and fell to the floor. Without hesitation, Chan began to kick Mingyu in the stomach as hard as he could. It was impossible for Mingyu to escape until the time would come when Chan decided to stop or somebody else stepped in.

 

 

In the midst of it all, Jisoo stepped off his own bike and made his way to Junhui, "Do you know what he was doing here?" He raised his voice over the yells and groans that echoed in the street. Hansol also joined to listen. Junhui could smell the weed on Hansol when he had come over, and he was surprised at how sensible he could be considering he was high. Although he still hadn't worked out where he was getting it from.

 

 

"Looked like he was racing a Rocket, won't tell me who but claims they didn't realise they were on my turf till they saw me." He looked to Jisoo who seemed to be listening intensively, as if he was taking in every single bit of information Junhui gave him.

 

 

"Do we know which member it was?" Jisoo had questioned eagerly and Junhui shook his head with a small laugh.

 

 

"Don't you think I would've stopped Chan by now if Mingyu had told me?" He raised a brow to Jisoo and let a small smile show on his lips.

 

 

"I don't care if Mingyu wouldn't let up. Chan's gonna fucking end up killing him!" Hansol had suddenly spoken up and rushed over to Chan, wrapping his arms around him and ripping him away from Mingyu who was writhing in pain on the floor. Of all people, Junhui should've expected it to be Hansol to stop the violence. He was such a pacifist sometimes it was a bad thing and it seemed that smoking weed hadn't taken that away from him. Yet when Junhui looked at Mingyu's bloody face, he knew Hansol had stopped him just in time before it went too far. "That's enough, Chan. I think he knows now not to come back here," Hansol had said and let go of Chan. Chan nodded and picked up his helmet before going back to his bike with Hansol.

 

 

Junhui pointed an index finger to Mingyu who was slowly standing back up. "Next time I see  _anyone_  else on my turf, I'll make sure they're beaten to death. I really will." Junhui was not joking around -- he had truly meant this.

 

 

"Jeez, Junhui! Who punctured your bike tires?" Mingyu coughed, wiping the blood from his mouth with the cuff of his ruffled blazer. Even when he'd just been beaten up he still didn't show fear towards Junhui. He watched the tall male stumble to his bike again and put on his helmet again, hiding away the mess Chan had made on his face.

 

 

"I'm not fucking joking, Mingyu. I'm sick of this shit," Junhui replied with arguably the most venom in his voice he'd ever heard in himself. It was almost scary.

 

 

"Just get the fuck out of here!" Chan barked from his bike. Junhui had to get that kid under control, he really did. Before he knew it Mingyu's engine had started and he was slowly wheeling around.

 

 

"Fuck you too!" Mingyu aggressively called over the sound of his engine. Before anyone could've replied with an insult of their own, there was nothing to be seen but clouds of dust and smoke as Mingyu had sped up and was now speeding down the road.

 

 

Junhui's shoulders had dropped and he pinched between his brows with his fingers. He was beginning to lose control. 

 

 

There had been a small moment of silence before Hansol's voice perked up from where he sat on his bike as he started it, "Let's get back; I still have Chan's high score to beat."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Gangnam Gu -- Diamond Edge Bar_**

Before he'd gotten the call from Seungkwan, Seungcheol hadn't needed this extra glass of whisky. He also hadn't felt the urge to light a fresh cigarette. As a matter of fact, Seungcheol could've left the box of cigarettes to sit in his black blazer pocket since almost everyone in his bar had one lit, so he was practically breathing in more smoke than a forest fire gave off. Maybe it was just something to relieve his stress: having one between his fingers or his lips.

 

 

And he needed anything to relieve his stress right now.

 

 

"What the fuck do you mean Mingyu isn't there?" He whisper-yelled down the phone, leaning his right elbow on the bar counter and resting his phone to his ear. At this time, a stranger wouldn't have expected a bar to be busy but Seungcheol's bar was different. Diamond Edge wasn't just a place for people to order a drink and relax -- it was also the hub for dealings and meetings for people such as mobsters and gangsters. All kinds of men of business came to Seungcheol's bar to do whatever commercing or conversating was necessary. Naturally excluding Wonwoo's or Junhui's men, for obvious reasons.

 

 

It was fair to say that Seungcheol's place didn't look the most modern, however it fulfilled its purpose perfectly. For every single window, the glass was blurred meaning people outside were completely oblivious to anything that happened on inside that they perhaps wouldn't deem legal. Most furniture was wooden, dark oak. Most tables covered in white rings left by wet glasses, or they had cigarette ashes scattered on the surfaces. The bar was fully stocked with any drink a man could think of wanting and there was always a bartender ready to serve.

 

 

Seungcheol pressed the phone closer to his ear if that was even possible anymore. Somehow the smooth tunes of jazz in here was too loud for him to hear Seungkwan's voice, which was a change. Usually, Seungcheol could hear that man even from much more than a fucking mile away.

 

 

"We've got the firearms, I guess we could borrow this guy's van just to bring them back to the bar? Although it might take some persuading." Seungcheol listened to him down the line.

 

 

"Just - tell him I'll pay him when you get here... but where the fuck is Mingyu?!" Seungcheol's voice burned with rage and Mingyu was certainly in trouble.

 

 

"I don't know, hyung! Last time I heard from him was when Soonyoung and I were leaving at the same time to get to here. He was just going to get the van he'd booked to rent out." Seungcheol could hear Seungkwans footsteps, he could tell he was growing impatient and honestly, if Seungcheol was alone, he'd be doing the same thing. It was needless to say that he wasn't relaxed anymore.

 

 

The man sighed and tightly closed his eyes. "Fine. Take his van and get your fucking asses back here as soon as possible."

 

 

"And Mingyu?" Seungcheol could hear no more background noise which insinuated that Soonyoung was now listening in as much as he possibly could through the muffled sound and Seungkwan had finally stopped pacing back and forth. 

 

 

"I'll deal with him, you two just focus on getting here in one piece and with my fucking order!" On that note, Seungcheol ended the call, fury and anger bubbling through his bloodstream. Mingyu knew how important this mission was for their gang yet he didn't even bother to turn up. Seungcheol was ready for any excuse the man may have but he was definitely not going to forgive him.

 

 

Unless it was because he was bleeding to death somewhere. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_— May -- Seoul -- Mapo Gu -- Check-In_ **

Long fingers ran through Wonwoo's black locks and tugged at them gently. He kept his gaze straightforward and watched in the mirror as Jeonghan worked on his hair from behind. Jeonghan was perhaps one of the best barbers Wonwoo had working at Check-In -- he worked perfectly. It wasn't often that Wonwoo had enough free time like this, so he was making the most of it. Leading a biker gang took a lot of work. Wonwoo could tell anybody that.

 

 

He stretched his thin arm out until his leather jacket brushed up against it so he could see his watch. Minghao had left for this race a few hours ago, so what was taking him so long?

 

 

"I sent him to race, not on a fucking holiday," Wonwoo said and shook his arm so his sleeve fell back down. He looked to Jeonghan in the mirror to await a reply, but Jeonghan was too engrossed in trimming Wonwoo's hair that Seokmin stepped in instead.

 

 

"You really think this is gonna work?" Seokmin had asked from behind and Wonwoo's eyes focused on him through the mirror. The male was lying on his back on the dark brown leather sofa, his feet rested on the arm closest to Wonwoo.

 

 

"Why wouldn't it?" Jihoon scoffed from the free chair to the left of Wonwoo. "Minghao is one of the best tattooists in South Korea. There's no way he'd let a fucker from the King Riders walk around wearing one of his own designs," Jihoon replied as he kept his eye line low on his glaring phone screen. He seemed to be halfway through typing a message into the text bar to Minghao. Most likely demanding on knowing his whereabouts and what was taking him so long. Even though Wonwoo had already done this a while ago, he liked that Jihoon just wanted to fulfil his role of Vice.

 

 

"Besides, Kim Mingyu isn't their best when it comes to speed. If it was Kwon Soonyoung then we should be worried." Seokmin said mid-stretch, arms extended in the air. Was this man serious? Wonwoo had signalled Jeonghan to pause before spinning in his chair to face Seokmin.

 

 

"Do me a favour, Seokmin and take a look at the patch on Jeonghan's jacket. What does it say?" He raised his brows at him, awaiting his reply.

 

 

"Rockets?" Seokmin had answered with confusion and Wonwoo span back to face the mirror, a small smile evident on his face.

 

 

"Yes, you fucking moron. Nobody can beat the Rockets when it comes to speed. Did you forget that?" He had rolled his eyes and Jeonghan chuckled before getting back to work.

 

 

"Minghao's insane when he races, anyway. Don't you remember that one time he surged through those fucking cop cars and never got caught?" Jihoon was right. Even Wonwoo was impressed that night. 

 

 

All conversation quickly stopped when the small twinkle of a bell rang and heavy footsteps could be heard. Although the room was dimly lit, the silhouette of a distinctively tall, slim figure with a thick mullet could be noticed instantly in the mirror Wonwoo was facing. He spun around on his chair again to face the familiar looking figure and looked him up and down mentally questioning anything that was out of place.

 

 

"You took your time," Wonwoo blankly said as he slowly interlocked his large pale hands and gently placed them on his lap. Instantly he took control over the atmosphere in the room and demanded there be silence from anyone but the person in question. Wonwoo knew Minghao had quickly noticed this and he also knew Minghao wasn't a fan of taking orders, though he opened his mouth to answer anyway. 

 

 

"There was a bit of a hiccup, that's all. Nothing to worry about for us anyway." He smiled softly. Wonwoo replied with a small 'hm' and wondered what the 'hiccup' had been.

 

 

"Did you get the good stuff though?" Seokmin asked, almost sounding anxious. Minghao's gaze moved from Wonwoo to him.

 

 

"Of course I did, I'm not some fucking rookie," Minghao bit back. He seemed slightly offended that Seokmin of all people had felt the need to question this.

 

 

"Well just cause you won, doesn't mean that you're going to get it," Jihoon warned. "We all know Mingyu can be a sore loser. Plus, the King Riders want our blood."

 

 

"And we want theirs just as bad," Minghao replied calmly and sat on the sofa beside Seokmin who was now sitting upright in order to make room for him. He sat back into it, resting one arm on the back and crossing his legs. Wonwoo had always been amazed by how relaxed Minghao seemed at all times. Like nothing ever got to him.

 

 

"He's right. Jeonghan, I want you to keep an eye on Mingyu, make sure he's gonna give Minghao what we want," Wonwoo ordered as he looked up to glance at Jeonghan. Wonwoo's face was stern as it often was when they were dealing with business. His knuckles had now subsided to a white colour as his grip tightened with concentration and anger at the thought of the King Riders getting away on their watch. He couldn't have that, especially when all three gangs were now at their peak and any one of them could attack at any time. Although he was confident in his team he couldn't lower his guard.

 

 

Wonwoo was now more relaxed and had turned himself back to facing the mirror so that Jeonghan could continue with his work. 

 

 

"No need to worry, Boss." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Gangnam Gu -- Diamond Edge Pub_**

Seungcheol watched the smoke that slowly emitted from the cigarette that was between his chapped pink lips. Religiously, he kept flitting his gaze down to his phone on the bar side, waiting for Mingyu to answer. He had left him three voicemails and a collection of text messages yet none of which had been answered. Seungcheol didn't like to wait. If Mingyu didn't turn up in the next hour his position in the King Riders would be deducted. 

 

 

He wholeheartedly meant that.

 

 

Not far from where Seungcheol sat at the bar was Seungkwan and Soonyoung playing darts. The two weren't too far away but still, Seungcheol couldn't make out what they were talking about if he tried. At least the delivery had arrived safely and in one piece, even without the help of Mingyu.

 

 

Now all Seungcheol had to worry about was that lost puppy dog.

 

 

A few minutes had passed and he couldn't take it anymore -- Seungcheol picked up his phone from the counter and rapidly flicked through his long list of contacts until he found Mingyu. Hopefully this time he'd pick up. As the rings had begun, Seungcheol impatiently tapped his foot on the stool. 

 

 

Although he didn't have to wait long before loud series of thumps and thuds had been heard from the entrance of the pub, admittedly making Seungcheol jump a little as well as others in the room. A few seconds later, Soonyoung's panicked voice yelled from across the room.

 

 

"Shit, Seungcheol get over here!" Seungcheol looked to the younger one's direction to see him and Seungkwan, along with many other men, crowding around one figure.

 

 

Mingyu. What the fuck had he been up to now?

 

 

Seungcheol had slid his phone into the pocket of his black trousers and hopped off the stool to rush over to Mingyu who looked only half conscious on the wooden floor. Pushing others out of the way hadn't been a problem; they had made way for Seungcheol without question.

 

 

"He's just burst through the fucking doors and collapsed onto the floor," Soonyoung explained, crouching down to get closer to Mingyu's broken frame.

 

 

"Gyu, are you okay?" Soonyoung asked loudly and patted Mingyu's back as Mingyu was now on his hands and knees, clearly unable to stand up. Soonyoung's only reply that he had gotten in return was a weak groan of pain from Mingyu before Seungkwan quickly butted in.

 

 

"Stop pissing about and wasting time, Soonyoung! He's fucking beaten up!" He flicked his wrist aggressively at Soonyoung. "Get him on the pool table and I'll find my shit to sort this out," he ordered, stress audible in his tone. Usually, Seungcheol wouldn't let himself be bossed but there was simply no time. Seungkwan was the best when it came to aiding to injuries in the gang, so he didn't hesitate in leaping in and hooking his arms underneath Mingyu's underarms with a huff, whilst Soonyoung rested Mingyu's legs over his arms. Mingyu's clothes were stained with blood just like his face that was ruined with bruises, and scratches, and swelling.

 

 

In the middle of transferring Mingyu's limp body to the fairly large pool table, Seungcheol realised that his bar was still filled with people. He couldn't have that. There was no way he could have his customers in his bar whilst one of his members was fucking screaming in pain and bleeding on a pool table.

 

 

"Place is closed!" Seungcheol shouted as he swept his free arm across the table to let the pool balls roll to the end and out of the way for Mingyu to sit down. "I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Choi Seungcheol had officially snapped, and fortunately, it did the job. In the blink of an eye, it was just the four of them in the room, as well as a few employees cleaning the place up.

 

 

Seungkwan had been quick to return with a first aid kit that he opened up beside Mingyu on the green material of the pool table. Seungcheol had noticed he'd had an arm wrapped around his torso since he was sat down. "Let me see your stomach, Mingyu," Seungcheol had ordered and began to peel Mingyu's arm away and then remove his blazer. Whilst he carried on unbuttoning his waistcoat, Seungkwan was busy clearing up the wounds on Mingyu's face. Every so often the male would wince in discomfort and fidget.

 

 

"It's not as painful as it looks, really. I don't need this, Seungkwan," Mingyu croaked as Seungcheol had now moved onto his (once white) shirt.

 

 

"Shut up, hyung -- it's pretty bad. Who did this to you?" Seungkwan's voice was shaky with the stress and worry and so was his hands as they treated a large wound on Mingyu's brow.

 

 

"Does it matter?" Mingyu groaned as Seungcheol opened his shirt to reveal his whole stomach was coated with massive bruises of a deep purple. Seungcheol dipped his head and sighed heavily.

 

 

"Yes, it matters! Whoever this was has been kicking you like a fucking football!" Seungcheol yelled with pure rage and gestured to Mingyu's body that was black and blue.

 

 

"Okay!" Seungcheol watched Mingyu's body tense as he shouted over the commotion. "It was Lee Chan." He had sounded completely defeated as Seungcheol looked up at the younger who was looking down at Seungcheol with apologetic eyes. There was a  _small_  part of Seungcheol that would look at Mingyu's state and feel bad for whatever had happened to him but he knew he couldn't let that get to him. Mingyu hadn't done his job.  

 

 

"The fuck were you doing with him?! You only had to collect the damn van!" Seungcheol snapped and got up from his knees so he was now face to face with Mingyu. He had watched Mingyu's mouth open as he was about to give him an answer until doctor Seungkwan stepped in with a wet, bloody cloth in hand.

 

 

"Seungcheol, please, you're in the way," Seungkwan stated with a hint of sass as he pressed the cloth against Mingyu's brow which earned a hiss from him. Seungcheol kept his fiery gaze on Mingyu as he stepped to one side to let Seungkwan work.

 

 

"Look, I took a wrong turn and ended up in Junhui's streets and they fucking spotted me, okay? That's it." Something about Mingyu's tone gave Seungcheol the impression that that wasn't all it.

 

 

"How could you get the directions wrong, Mingyu? Come on, you didn't have to go far." Soonyoung's voice came from behind as he paced back and forth, swinging his bat. He could've at least lent a hand.

 

 

"At least it wasn't a Rocket; usually is," Seungkwan added in before gasping, "Shit, this is gonna need stitches. That kid must've taken all his stress out on you, Gyu. Seems like he got you pretty good." He said whilst rummaging through his kit.

 

 

"You still haven't answered us Mingyu. How did you manage to mess the directions up? You know this place like the back of your own motherfucking hand". Seungcheol was growing impatient with Mingyu and was demanding to receive answers. 

 

 

"I just did okay! I must have gone down the wrong street or something, I don't kn-OW!" Mingyu exclaimed as Seungkwan had begun stitching.

 

 

"Seungcheol, please! You're causing distress for my patient," Seungkwan had sighed, gently nudging the elder out of the way of the lights that were hanging above their heads. Right now, with the lack of light seeping through the windows, the brightness of the pool table lights was all he had to work with. Seungcheol huffed and glared down at the man who was now bending his knees slightly so that he could get closer. He didn't enjoy being the one on the receiving end of the orders but he trusted Seungkwan to keep his all men in perfect shape. 

 

 

"How much longer, Kwan? I'm tired since some of us actually did our work today," Soonyoung looked to Mingyu when he had said this but all he received in return was a very heartfelt and bloody middle finger from Mingyu. 

 

 

"No time at all, hyung. My work here is done." Seungkwan wiped a droplet of sweat from his brow and began to tidy up the green felt that was now littered with bandages and bloody cloths. 

 

 

"Soonyoung take Mingyu upstairs to rest, please," Seungcheol ordered, finally regaining his authority. He watched Soonyoung who bent his arm underneath Mingyu's and assisted him off of the pool table and remained there until he had gained his balance. With every movement, Mingyu winced at the pain in his ribs but carried on anyway. "And Mingyu..." Mingyu came to a halt and twisted his head over his shoulder to face the man. Seungcheol was about to tell Mingyu that just because he was injured, he still wasn't off the hook and that he wasn't getting away with this... but as he looked at the man's face and just how bad he'd been treated tonight, Seungcheol just couldn't do it. "I'm not mad at you. Just sleep well, okay?"


	3. Beneath the Cherry Blossom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Soonyoung is soft for Chan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy lovelies! it's a little longer than usual :) <3  
> [padlet](https://padlet.com/mmxchi/a0h8t0lcn4ne)

**_— May -- Seoul -- Mapo Gu -- Check In_ **

"Fuck..." Jeonghan breathed. His face twisted in discomfort.

 

 

Initially, when he had woken up, the first thing he felt was the ache that spiked through his whole body. It wasn't insanely painful but it was uncomfortable enough to disturb his precious beauty sleep. He stretched out his legs under the covers, hoping to stretch out any pain they were in. For two days straight he'd been switching shifts between the other members, going on stakeouts and patrolling the streets and districts that were under Wonwoo's name. It was all exhausting for Jeonghan. He found it draining, having to ride through the Rocket's designated portion of the city and keep his eyes peeled for any unwanted visitors and occasionally come across a buyer of Wonwoo's who still hadn't paid for their deal, and needed a lesson to be taught to them. There were plenty of people in these particular districts of Wonwoo's that got their drugs from the gang. Indeed, there was quite a large number. Jeonghan knew that the Rockets were the best out of the three gangs when it came to distributing drugs. Wonwoo took his work  _very_  seriously. Everybody knew that.

 

 

Then again, Jeonghan found almost anything exhausting due to the fact he was in love with sleeping. If he could've, he'd be in that bed for the rest of his life - he just wished he could do all of his work from there. Since he'd been doing this routine for a couple of days now, it meant that he'd barely slept until last night. Usually, nobody had bothered to patrol their turf as much as they were doing nowuntil Wonwoo demanded that it became a consistent routine all because the gangs seemed to be growing more unstable and erratic by the day. He said he wanted his men on high guards just in case somebody snapped.

 

 

Jeonghan had realised he'd slept late when he sat up (perhaps too quickly as his brain felt fuzzy for a few seconds) because usually, the mattress beside him would've been occupied by Minghao however it was empty. Not forgetting how perfectly made Minghao, the oh-so organised guy, had made his bed too. As well as Minghao's sleeping space, across the room, Seokmin's bed was also vacant (and much messier). The thick and heavy curtains had been drawn - most likely by Minghao - and the large window that took up the whole wall in front of Jeonghan was letting in the daylight. So overall, it was clear that Jeonghan had overslept by reason of the other boys were up and working. 

 

 

It would've been helpful if they'd woken him up but then again, no, don't wake Yoon Jeonghan when he was sleeping.

 

 

As Jeonghan stood up, he let out a yawn, scratching his head as he did before stepping off the mattress. As expected, the smooth wooden flooring was cold underneath his bare feet which ultimately woke him up. This bedroom he shared with Minghao and Seokmin was relatively larger than the other one in the next room that held only Wonwoo. Jihoon never slept; he was constantly working. There had seemed to be no point in giving him a designated place to rest because he never even sat down in the first place. Jeonghan knew that to Jihoon, fulfilling the role as second in command meant that he was forever hopping between districts sending messages to buyers and customers or making sure people still found the gang intimidating enough and if they didn't, he'd make them.

 

 

After he'd sleepily gotten dressed and finished freshening up, the more awake Jeonghan made his way downstairs. He'd gotten into his usual attire: black jeans and boots, a simple t-shirt and his assigned leather jacket. No biker could go anywhere without their colours. This rarely changed. 

 

 

It didn't take long for the thumping bass from the urban rap tunes that were blasted down there to increase in volume and this told Jeonghan that Check-In was definitely open. Although today he wouldn't be trimming hair or sweeping it up; his job today was to check up on Mingyu's position - see if he still remembered the deal. Or perhaps remind him of what would happen if he didn't hurry his ass up. Wonwoo had mentioned recently that he'd expected the stash to have been given to him by now but clearly, something was holding Mingyu back... and that was where Jeonghan stepped in. He didn't mind doing this, in fact, he'd much rather do it over plodding around the shop doing the same old boring work.

 

 

"Morning, hyung!" Seokmin gave Jeonghan one of his eye smiles where his eyes turned into two little black curves and all of his bright teeth were on full view. It was certainly charming. Sometimes Jeonghan wondered why Seokmin was actually in this gang; he didn't seem like the guy to live a lifestyle like this... or even survive it. Still, he was a valuable member.

 

 

"Hi Seokmin," Jeonghan returned a gentler smile as he stood at the doorway of the workroom. He watched Seokmin work on a customer's hair with some scissors as he carried on, "Jihoon out with Wonwoo today?" He asked, having noticed he hadn't seen either of them around since he'd gotten up.

 

 

"Yup. Having a meeting, or something. I don't think they've been able to have a one-to-one in a while," Seokmin replied and he spoke with a small smile that refused to leave his lips. The sun was fairly bright today but Seokmin was undoubtedly brighter. Jeonghan had replied with a silent nod and he glanced over to where the light buzzing from a tattoo gun could be heard to see Minghao's tattooing corner where he was completely focused on inking a man's arm. As a matter of a fact, it'd been a while since Jeonghan had seen Minghao working on somebody. The place had been pretty dead recently, which was strange. Jeonghan knew not to say a word to Minghao when he was working. It was better off not to disturb him. Instead, he waved to Seokmin.

 

 

"Well, I'll catch you later. Duty calls," he'd said and turned back around to the small corridor. He swiped his helmet from the wall and carried it under his arm as he opened the door with his free hand. The bell above twinkled as he did so and yet it was heavily drowned out by the racket outside. Already the streets were buzzing and conversations and commotion filled Jeonghan's ears.

 

 

Today was going to be a long day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_— May -- Seoul -- Yongsan Gu_ **

"You hungry?" Wonwoo asked automatically and Jihoon watched him from the sidewalk as he stepped off his bike to join him. After what Jihoon had just had to do, in fact, his appetite had disappeared. Wonwoo had glanced down and patted down his precious jacket before looking back up to Jihoon, awaiting his reply.

 

 

"I find punching somebody in the face a dozen times before is a little offputting, so I'm not really hungry." He examined his sore and blood-stained knuckles. It was strange that he was more used to seeing his hands like this than when they'd be clean and absent of cuts and bruises. In order to not draw any attention to himself, Jihoon tried his best to wipe as much blood as he could onto his black jeans. Today he'd beaten a guy that'd not paid Jihoon enough for the cocaine he'd traded him. Nothing major but it still had to be done. Boss' orders.

 

 

"Me neither. Doesn't matter anyway; that's not why we're here." Wonwoo said and his lips slightly curled upwards. That rare smile. "Come on."

 

 

As Jihoon had entered the coffee shop, the first thing he noticed was how empty it was which was perfect for Wonwoo and himself; it was much easier to talk business this way. Once the door was closed, the mixed scents of cooked food and warm drinks were quick to please his senses. He had followed Wonwoo through the exceedingly decorated room -- his booted footsteps heavy on the timber floor, as well as Wonwoo's. The wooden decor and the endless number of plants in the cafe made it feel a lot more organic and homey. Wonwoo had decided to tuck away into the corner of the room most likely to make sure what would be discussed wouldn't have been heard by the few people that were in here. Even though they seemed heavily involved in their quiet conversations or working their laptops anyway, but Wonwoo was always wary. The taller male had taken the chair that was to the wall so Jihoon went for the one opposite, falling heavily as a sigh escaped his lips. Already he knew what he'd be getting: a very strong coffee.

 

 

Once the waitress had come over and taken note of Jihoon's coffee and Wonwoo's cappuccino, Wonwoo waited patiently and silently until the woman was completely gone until he could start talking. His feline eyes didn't leave the woman until she was around the corner and out of sight. Then he parted his lips to speak in a relaxed tone. Something foreign to Jihoon's ears.

 

 

"It's nice to be able to speak with you alone again, Jihoonie," he began, sitting forward in his chair with his legs widely parted like they often were. He folded his arms on the light, coffee stained table. Jihoon had observed that Wonwoo only called him that when there was no one else around and he was feeling less stressed. It was definitely pleasant to hear from the usually forbidding and focused leader. Being Wonwoo's right-hand man, Jihoon knew that wasn't really him -- Wonwoo was much more than his cold stare and sharp words. In some ways, Jihoon felt like he could relate to Wonwoo because he too preferred to completely hide his vulnerability and emotions to maintain a strong appearance to others. At times it could be tiring but it was simply much better that way in a position like his. Jihoon gave Wonwoo a controlled smile and slowly crossed his right leg over his left. 

 

 

"There's a lot to talk about," he'd replied and without thought, he mirrored how Wonwoo's arms rested on the table. Seeing as he already had a few things on his mind, Jihoon decided to start off, "I'm sure you've heard that new guy's been patched now. You know, the one who's been following Junhui's group around like a fucking lost puppy dog begging for attention." Jihoon couldn't remember his name but he knew Wonwoo would. 

 

 

"Sun Jisoo, yeah, really fucking polite apparently. Why?" Wonwoo asked, now seemingly engaged in the conversation. Everyone seemed to be intrigued by this new name. Jihoon had broken eye contact with Wonwoo for a moment and stared at a coffee ring on the table. He began to mumble.

 

 

"I dunno - just... maybe we should keep an eye on him." Jihoon couldn't quite understand fully as to why he had his questions about this Sun Jisoo. All he knew was that something was off with him.

 

 

"Yeah?" Wonwoo raised his brow.

 

 

"Well, have you ever heard that name on the streets before? Cos I've never. It's like he just came outta nowhere. I could be overthinking it, though. There's probably nothing going on there," Jihoon had waved it off but Wonwoo was quick to jump in and keep the topic going.

 

 

"No, no, I agree. I've been hearing it from the other boys too so we'll keep an eye on him, don't worry. Plus, it's nearly the end of the month so the meetup will be soon, that means we can see what happens then." Jihoon had always hated those fucking meetups at the end of each month. Apparently, it was a way to highlight problems between the gangs and keep the peace but it was pretty clear that no rider gave a shit about peace anymore. Everyone seemed to be out for blood these days whether it was justified or not.

 

 

"In other news, we must address what's going on with the business." After Wonwoo had spoken, the waitress arrived. With a civil smile, she carefully placed the drinks on the table before asking if there was anything else they needed. Wonwoo politely dismissed her.

 

 

"Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen," she had said and bowed lightly before leaving to carry on working. Jihoon watched Wonwoo as he slowly picked up his mug. He pouted his pink lips to blow on the steaming liquid before taking a small sip. After he'd swallowed, he carried on.

 

 

"We're losing customers, Jihoon," he blatantly said whilst putting his drink back down on the table. Jihoon leaned forward in his chair and raised his brows to Wonwoo.

 

 

"What? Are you sure?" From as far as Jihoon knew, the barbering side of the business seemed to have been going fine and Minghao's little tattooing part didn't look like there were any problems to it. However, that could've been because Jihoon was barely actually there; most of the time he was hunting down guys who'd pissed Wonwoo off, or he was patrolling his streets or running errands for him. So Jihoon wasn't as in touch with the establishment compared to someone like Seokmin for example who was mostly in charge of how they were doing financially. So perhaps there  _was_  a problem.

 

 

"Of course I'm fucking sure!" Wonwoo snapped and slammed a fist down on the table. This made Jihoon jump a little in his seat as the table and drinks trembled under Wonwoo's hand from the amount of impact he had forced onto it. That was when Jihoon knew it was time to listen to Wonwoo as his boss. "Seokmin told me there's a snake in the system who's been goin' around telling Minghao's clients that he's been demanding they give him their pricey fucking gold rings and chains or some shit, in addition with paying for their tattoo. Been saying his needles are unclean too so they've been told unless they wanna be ripped off and be leaving the place with an infection, they shouldn't go back. And to think they fucking believe it all too because it's working: less and fewer customers are showing up. This is serious, Jihoon. Our income's dropped like a stone." Wonwoo refused to break eye contact with Jihoon and Jihoon had no choice but to keep it. Occasionally there'd be times when he could read how Wonwoo was feeling through his eyes and today was one of them. Yes, he did seem furious but behind the fury, there was also fear and it wasn't often Jihoon would see fear in Wonwoo. Why, of course, they had their drug system running smoothly with a fair amount of money coming in, but, they needed that shop; it was their home too.

 

 

Jihoon had leaned back in his chair again and sighed, his expression still shaken. "Shit... have you thought about it could be those dumb-fuck kids from Junhui's? You know they're always causing trouble," Jihoon suggested, however, he knew he was incorrect when Wonwoo's expression switched from focused to disgusted.

 

 

"There's no way in hell my guys would listen to Junhui's boys. Anyway, you really think those punks are gonna think twice about messing with me and my work? Everyone in this city knows I'll make sure to fuck them and their families up if they piss me off, Jihoon. Those two wouldn't be riding on their shitty bikes anymore if I knew it was them. No, whoever's done this is fucking clever and has some sort of problem with us." Jihoon knew how much Wonwoo valued respect and he knew how much he cherished his business and his money. When he had spoken, Jihoon could tell that when they managed to rat out whoever was doing this, Wonwoo would not be holding back. He didn't know what Wonwoo was going to do but he did know it wasn't going to be pretty.

 

 

Jihoon was about to pick up his coffee to take a sip, however as tired or as thirsty as he was, this conversation was much more important than caffeine, "But as far as I know we've got no competition with any other joints in the area?"

 

 

"No, we don't. That's why it's making me more pissed off than it should. I don't know who we're after," Wonwoo hissed and Jihoon watched his jaw clench hard. Jihoon hated this feeling -- the feeling that he was failing his boss because he didn't know the answer to their problems. He always wanted to do the best he could for his gang. He sighed quietly and let his shoulders sink after they'd been so tense following Wonwoo's unsettling outburst of rage.

 

 

"Look, the meetup is in a few days so we'll find out more then. I have a feeling it's somebody who we won't have to search hard for..." Jihoon had said and finally drank his coffee that was now pleasingly warm rather than boiling hot. It was bitter on his tongue but undoubtedly worth it knowing how much it was going to wake him up. After swallowing his passably large mouthful and placing the mug back onto the table, Jihoon asked Wonwoo if Minghao and Jeonghan knew about this situation yet.

 

 

"Minghao, yes. He does. He was quick to notice when he was getting less work to do each day. Jeonghan's been so busy working on the streets that he's barely been home but I'll get it to him before the meetup," Wonwoo explained. Thankfully the fire in him had seemed to settle and his tone was much more relaxed. After another taste from his drink, Wonwoo seemed to have something else on his mind, "Actually, I've sent Jeonghan to look for Mingyu today. I still don't know what I'm gonna do with that shit-head. If Jeonghan doesn't come back with the stash tonight, his last chance is at the meetup." Jihoon knew Wonwoo wasn't playing around with this deal. With that much weed, they'd attract some more attention from more people, which overall meant more cash.

 

 

"And if he still doesn't deliver?" Jihoon asked, genuinely curious to see what'd happen to Mingyu.

 

 

"He will deliver. I'll make him."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ** _— May -- Seoul -- Gwangjin Gu_**  

Springtime was beautiful to Soonyoung. It was much prettier when he actually had the free time to admire it like this afternoon. He'd chosen to wait for Chan under a cherry blossom in a small and quiet park. It was important that when they did meet up, it was somewhere where it was unlikely they'd be spotted together because obviously, it was against the rules that were firmly set between the gangs. Soonyoung followed the rules as best as he could... but Chan, to him, was an exception.

 

 

Soonyoung sat lazily on the grass with his back slumped against the thick trunk behind him. One leg had bent upwards so his arm that held his cigarette could rest, without effort, on his knee. Initially, he had been worried about sitting down here because he didn't want to get his suit dirty... but then he'd come to terms that actually, he didn't give a shit. Just as long as Seungcheol would never have to hear that. Of course, parked on the grass too was his blue Vespa; he kept it in his vision at all times just to make sure. Losing that thing would mean losing his place as a King Rider.

 

 

Soonyoung had sat there alone for a short while before Chan arrived. It was nice to be alone for once and sort his thoughts out. When Chan did arrive, he'd watched the boy gift him with a small wave accompanied by a little smile. He'd taken his spot next to Soonyoung, leaning against the trunk too. At first, it had just been small talk like asking how each other were doing and then Chan complained about Jisoo teasing him for his age to which in his reply, Soonyoung laughed and messed Chan's soft, light hair. 

 

 

Despite the fun talk, Chan did have something rather more urgent on his mind. Soonyoung shifted so he was now facing Chan cross-legged, giving the boy his undivided attention.

 

 

"I feel really bad, hyung," he admitted, his features hardening. Soonyoung let him continue. "I hurt Mingyu too much, didn't I? I went too far." Soonyoung felt his heart melt away at Chan's sulky tone. When Soonyoung had heard that night that it was Chan that'd done that to Mingyu, he was a little shocked at first. Shocked that Chan had it in him to do so much damage.

 

 

"Chan don't worry, seriously. You did what you had to do. Anyone of us would've done the same. You know by now that you need to keep strong in this lifestyle." Soonyoung was rather glad that Chan felt like this; he didn't want him to lose his heart in this fucked up life.

 

 

"I know, but-"

 

 

"No but's. Stop worrying. He's alright now." Soonyoung smiled, hoping it'd pass on to Chan. He watched Chan's face soften again, and he nodded in agreement with Soonyoung. 

 

 

After a few more light-hearted conversations had been shared, Soonyoung perked up, "So, what was your excuse this time?" He questioned after having silently watched Chan mess with the silver rings on his fingers for a few seconds. Chan stopped and lifted his head slightly to look at Soonyoung. "Where did you tell 'em you were off to?"

 

 

"Oh..." Chan cracked a smile. "I just said I was going out to meet some old high school friends, that's all." Soonyoung hadn't thought about high school for a long time. It was all a blur of getting high and being a stupid fucking teenager to him.

 

 

"High school, huh...?" He murmured.

 

 

"Actually, I don't have any friends from high school," Chan observed. "I was kicked out not long after I began associating myself with Junhui and Hansol," his tone shifted as he muttered into his chest. Soonyoung didn't say a word; he wanted Chan to carry on. The mind could be a dangerous place to be locked inside of, Soonyoung knew, and Chan seemed to be trapped, so he wanted him to let himself go. "Of course, my mother was fucking enraged with me when she'd found out I was smoking weed and riding 'round with a fucking biker gang. It was the angriest I'd ever seen her." Soonyoung shuffled closer to Chan, letting his body brush against the youngers in a way that he hoped was comforting for him.

 

 

"Channie..." He whispered.

 

 

"She kicked me out of the house." Chan had said and Soonyoung felt his heart cry when he heard the pain in his small voice. "She told me to never show my sorry face again because I'd brought so much shame to the family. I had no choice but to live with, 'those vermins', as she called them. That was when Junhui took me under his wing - when I was initiated into the gang and given a home where I felt safer, as weird as it sounds. Junhui and Hansol are my hyungs. They taught me everything I know now."

 

 

Soonyoung noticed his gaze lift as he said this, to finally look into his own small eyes. He didn't know what to say - no - he had so many things to say to Chan that he was afraid Chan wouldn't feel the same way about his words. So instead, Soonyoung quietly passed his cigarette that had been locked between his two fingers towards Chan. Soonyoung admitted that he worried for the younger one constantly but not as much as he did right now. Currently, he was the most vulnerable Soonyoung had ever seen him. His fingers just barely touched with Chan's as the smoke was passed along. He took a short puff from the tab before blowing out the virulent fumes. 

 

 

Having heard Chan share his past with Soonyoung, he began to feel sympathetic for the boy. In a way, Chan hadn't chosen this life, he was forced into it, and he was just lucky enough to grow through it with Junhui who knew how to look out for Chan. Soonyoung couldn't help but feel somewhat different about Junhui because according to what Chan had said, he wasn't just a careless man who  _usually_  resorted to violence. He cared for his boys. He cared a lot. For once in Soonyoung's time in being a part of this violent war, he realised just how much he didn't know the people he was fighting against. 

 

 

"You really do love your hyungs so much. I can see it," Soonyoung said with a little smile. His eyes flitted down to Chan's pouted lips as another cloud of smoke escaped them. Soonyoung wetted his own lips involuntarily.

 

 

"Of course. They're my family and I always feel so guilty having to keep secrets from them," Chan answered, lowering his head as he returned to watching the light at the tip of the cigarette die out and cause the thin stick to begin to fall away with little flakes of ash, disappearing into the grass.

 

 

"I hope you know that the Neon Boys aren't the only people who love you, Chan," Soonyoung mumbled under his breath, slightly embarrassed about how he was feeling right now and how soft he was acting. He noticed one of the soft pink petals from the cherry blossom above had fallen into Chan's hair. Carefully, Soonyoung twisted his body slightly and edged ever so closer to Chan to pick the petal from the boy. Chan kept his big gaze on Soonyoung... and Soonyoung felt it. They were close. Close enough that Soonyoung could feel Chan's warm breath on his neck. And that was when he had to do it. He had to show Chan how much he  _cared_  for him.

 

 

Once the petal was put to one side, Soonyoung didn't break his gaze away from Chan's. He gently placed his two fingers underneath Chan's soft chin. His head was now resting on Soonyoung's touch and he stayed there for a while as Soonyoung examined every inch of the boy's glistening stare. Chan's eyes were completely innocent and the longer Soonyoung stared into them, the more he noticed the purity inside of Chan. Nothing but lust and hunger flooded his body at this moment as he leaned in even closer, and Chan did too, and their breaths began to mingle until-

 

 

"No..." Chan almost whispered as he slowly whipped his head to the side and leaned back so Soonyoung's fingers no longer held him. Soonyoung dipped his head and groaned quietly. What was he thinking? "We can't," Chan said. He wasn't wrong.

 

 

"I know..." Soonyoung sighed and hesitantly placed his hand on Chan's upper arm. He hadn't noticed how small Chan's frame actually was until he saw him now without his jacket on, he looked so small in just a white t-shirt. Chan looked back at Soonyoung and Soonyoung gave his arm a light rub. "I know."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_— May -- Seoul -- Gangnam Gu_ **

Mingyu was  _still_  hurting. He knew Chan had been pretty brutal to his body but he didn't know that a couple of days later he'd still be clutching his stomach because his ribs were so sore. Seungkwan had teased him that he was being a baby and sent him to fetch some painkillers since Seungcheol had used the last of them yesterday for an 'awful headache' due to Seungkwan and Soonyoung having one of their noisy episodes together. Honestly, Mingyu didn't blame him.

 

 

Not long after Mingyu had left the bar, it'd begun to rain. He'd noticed the thin droplets on the goggles of his helmet as he was riding to the pharmacy and was forced to wipe them a few times in order to see clearly. Since it was spring the rain seemed light and didn't pose a problem to Mingyu, and the air remained fairly warm. On his way, the sun had started to slowly set and the harsh blue's of the sky melted into a subdued orange and pink.

 

 

In the pharmacy, Mingyu took his time wandering through the isles in search of his painkillers. It was deadly silent, making Mingyu wonder when the last time he'd heard complete silence was. He couldn't even recall it was so long ago. He knew exactly where the medication was so after picking up a box, he made his way to the till and handed over the cash. He mumbled a thank you before leaving the store.

 

 

Now, the rain had gotten heavier. Mingyu dropped the box in his blazer pocket as he paced to where he'd parked his bike, water droplets already dripping from his light chestnut bangs.

 

 

Something didn't feel right. He felt like he was being watched. Mingyu paused in action for a moment and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he caught sight of a familiar red leather jacket quickly making their closer. They were so swift that Mingyu hadn't had time to process what was happening before he was dragged into the alleyway and his back hit the brick wall. Mingyu's grunts and coughs echoed in the alleyway as whoever it was had a tight grip on his blazer, pushing him harder into the wall behind. After rolling his head around in pain, Mingyu brought his vision to a face that could only belong to Yoon Jeonghan.  _'Fucking psycho bitch,'_ Mingyu had thought to himself as he saw the deranged smirk Jeonghan was giving him.

 

 

"WHAT THE F-" Mingyu was forced to stop yelling when he'd felt something dangerously sharp dig into his neck. Jeonghan had a pocket knife in his right hand. The edge was poking into the side of Mingyu's neck just enough to begin to cause pain. It was like a snake beginning to sink its teeth into him. His breath hitched and he froze. If Mingyu even did so little as to fidget, it could be all over.  

 

 

"I wouldn't shout if I were you," Jeonghan warned and flitted his conceited look down to the blade then back up to Mingyu's dread-filled eyes. Mingyu was putting on a strong front as much as he could but it was hard when it was fucking Yoon Jeonghan who had his life in his hands. Everybody knew Jeonghan was completely insane. It was safe to say that Mingyu  _didn't_  feel safe when the man who had been sent to prison for grievous bodily harm a long time ago, as well as having killed most likely  _tons_  of men was currently threatening Mingyu with a sharp object against a very sensitive area.

 

 

Jeonghan released the pressure on the knife only slightly. "I'm only here to ask you why it's taking you fucking centuries to hand over this stash." Well shit... Minghao had opened his mouth. Mingyu chuckled in disbelief and shook his head which made Jeonghan add more force again, stopping Mingyu.

 

 

"I'm working on it," Mingyu snarled lowly and looked Jeonghan dead in his eyes. Ever since he'd come back from the race, he'd been waiting for the right time to take from Seungkwan's load but Mingyu was just a fucking scared puppy dog at heart. Seungkwan took his drug sales seriously enough for Mingyu to be nervous. It was a fairly decent business he had set up and Mingyu did not want to ruin what Seungkwan had going on. Besides, Seungcheol was pleased with the income Seungkwan received and he got his fair share too, so Mingyu knew he'd be in deep trouble if he'd be caught out for gifting the dope to a gang that was already much more successful and well-known with their drug trades. It was definitely a competition between the gangs and Mingyu couldn't be doing anything more unhelpful for his own gang right now.

 

 

"You're working on it? How long does it fucking take, Mingyu?!" Jeonghan snapped and dug the point deeper into Mingyu's flesh. He winced as the skin had broke and blood was drawn. Unable to think of what to say, Mingyu mumbled a curse word. It wasn't unbearable - the sting in his neck - but it was sore. He inhaled deeply and listened to what else Jeonghan had to say. "Your deadline is the meetup. If it isn't in Wonwoo's hands by Friday..." Jeonghan removed the knife from where it'd been and Mingyu exhaled through his nose in relief. Yet he stayed tense as Jeonghan proceeded to drag the acute edge of the blade along one side Mingyu's throat to the other as if he was slitting it open. He did it in a painfully slow fashion that made Mingyu break into a sweat and he swallowed hard. Jeonghan made sure the edge only just made contact with Mingyu's skin. It was as if he was teasing with Mingyu's life and it felt like torture but he tried his best efforts to seem unphased by Jeonghan's tricks. He kept his chin up and looked down on Jeonghan who was watching the knife edge across Mingyu's perfectly exposed throat. After Jeonghan had stopped fantasising about killing Minyu, he looked back up to him with a threatening glare and a sneer that Mingyu found positively infuriating. 

 

 

Jeonghan was much lighter than Mingyu. It wasn't hard for him to kick the smaller male off of his larger build when he'd relaxed a little bit and watch him tumble backwards into the wall behind him. They alleyway was small, so that along with Mingyu's strength meant Jeonghan's back hit the wall pretty hard. So hard in fact that he'd managed to loose grip of his knife and it bounced onto the ground.

 

 

"Shit!" Jeonghan had coughed as he bent over wheezing and Mingyu rushed forward to swipe the knife and slam Jeonghan up against the wall again with his forearm on his chest. He kept him there and didn't go for the throat like Jeonghan had, instead, he placed the silver tip onto Jeonghan's pale cheek. Jeonghan didn't seem scared at all. In fact, he let out a short laugh, "Nice one, Mingyu. I'm imp-"

 

 

"This isn't your fucking turf, you crazy bitch! I could report you to Seungcheol and we'll wipe your gang clean out," Mingyu spat with raw fury as he watched the trail of blood slowly drip down Jeonghan's cheek who was still smiling. He hadn't intended to damage Jeonghan but obviously, his rage had gotten the better of him without him even noticing. He didn't care about how loud he was being anymore because he wasn't the one with a knife to his throat this time. Jeonghan was good at what he did: intimidating others by being a fucking psycho. On the contrary, there were some, like Mingyu, who's strength ruled over him. Still, there were always his manipulative words he had as a backup. Minyu knew that and he anticipated them.

 

 

"What? And tell him I'm here because you owe the Rockets some pot after you broke the rules and raced Minghao  _and_  lost? That would be pretty dumb." It was irritating how right Jeonghan was so Mingyu pushed his forearm harder into Jeonghan. The hardest he could. Through his wet bangs, he looked at Jeonghan's face that was dripping with raindrops.

 

 

"Just tell Wonwoo it won't take long! I have it I just-" He didn't have it.

 

 

"Show it to me then! Come on, where's this fucking gram of dope?! Where is it?!" Jeonghan began to raise his voice and he furrowed his brows, keeping his smile. He hit his fist on the wall behind -- his menacing smile still evident. Red-hot, angry lava was quickly rising in this alleyway and it was ascending closer to their heads. Mingyu had to leave before he drowned in it and something bad happened that he wouldn't be able to control.

 

 

"Shut the fuck up!" He'd yelled with his whole body, causing his ribs to ache. "I'll hand it over when I want to, okay?! If you come back here to harass me again I'll make sure you don't make it back to Mapo-Gu. Got it?" Mingyu had menaced and kept his deathly glower on Jeonghan. He watched as the caramel-haired man poked his tongue out to lick the blood that had run down the wound on his cheek and onto the corner of his lips.

 

 

"Sure," he deadpanned afterwards with the tiniest suggestion of sarcasm hidden in his overall blunt and candid tone. Mingyu scoffed and tossed Jeonghan's pocket knife to the floor. He'd watched it skid along before throwing Jeonghan off the wall. The male had hissed under his breath and scowled over his shoulder whilst he picked the knife back up.

 

 

Mingyu groaned quietly. He had to get his act together before either the Rockets killed him or his own fucking gang did. Jeonghan gave him a small grin as he strolled past him to the direction of his bike. Mingyu narrowed his eyes as the rain carried on falling onto his face and he watched Jeonghan start up his bike. His red jacket glistened in the downpour, unlike Mingyu's drenched blazer that was soaking in every drop like a damn sponge. Before leaving, he'd shouted over the engine to Mingyu, "Wonwoo is waiting, Mingyu. Time is ticking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (jisoo's name isn't a mistake lol, there's a reason...)


	4. Mission Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this one took a while but here it is!   
> We're back to school now and we'll be studying a lot for the final year but I promise we'll carry on writing and posting <3  
> How are you finding the fic so far? Who's story is your favourite? :)  
> We also might have a special fic for verkwan being planned... but for now, I hope you enjoy this one! xoxo

**—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Gwangjin-Gu_**

Seungkwan sometimes struggled to keep his head up whilst riding; his helmet was pretty heavy. Actually, his neck was beginning to ache from having to wear this thing almost all day. At least he only had two more stops before he could turn back home. He was beginning to grow tired, too, which was another reason why his head kept slowly dropping every now and then. Good job the cool air that blew in his face was enough to keep him from falling asleep whilst riding. He wavered through the traffic with ease and with the speed he was going at, a cool breeze persistently blew into his face. Although, it only hit his eyes as the rest of his face was hidden behind a black mask that wrapped around his ears. This was only to prepare himself for when he'd have to slide from Gwangjin-gu to Dongdaemun-gu soon. Into Junhui's turf, when he'd feel like he was undercover.

 

 

This morning he had met up with a drug runner who had given him his share of weed from Busan like he often did. The King Riders worked with Busan frequently. A while ago, they'd dealt with a gang down there who they pay to send over a portion of the shipments of weapons or drugs they received. It didn't come fairly cheap but it was good money. Since Seungkwan was primarily in charge of the drugs in the group, he was now almost finished dishing them out to the familiar faces he usually dealt with. He'd been circulating between the districts for an annoyingly long time, satisfying his usual customers and stuffing more and more cash inside his grey blazer each time. As of now, he was making his way through Gwangjin-gu to meet his last 'normal' buyer, Sunwoo. To Seungkwan, a normal customer was somebody he'd meet within his own territory. There was only one boy he wouldn't count as a normal customer. Nonetheless, he was perhaps his favourite.

 

 

Seungkwan carried on shooting down the long road. Sunwoo's place wasn't far now. The boy worked at a gas station in Gunja-Dong. All Seungkwan really knew about him was that he was studying athletics and sports and often shared what he got from Seungkwan with his college friends. Apart from his favourite customer, Sunwoo was probably the one he knew the most about. Sunwoo had never caused trouble for Seungkwan. There wasn't one time where there was a disagreement with the price or Sunwoo complained there was not enough. Simply put, he made Seungkwan's life a little easier.

 

 

Approaching the gas station, Seungkwan began to slow down once he'd spotted it. The place was open twenty-four hours so he'd expected Sunwoo to be falling asleep behind the cashier desk by now. Even though the night was late, there was still one man filling up his car at the station. Seungkwan hadn't needed to fill his tank up so instead of lining up next to a gas machine, he parked in front of the store. He turned off his bike and slid his helmet off his head with both hands, as well as pulling his mask down to underneath his chin. Frankly, there was no need for Seungkwan to take off his helmet, as he'd only be a few minutes, but it was an excuse for him to give his neck a rest. He had rubbed the back of his neck and sighed then hung his headgear on the handlebar of his bike.

 

 

Inside the store, there was nobody apart from Sunwoo who was leaning his elbows on the desk and texting on his phone. The bright light from the mobile lit up his young features however Seungkwan noticed the rings under his eyes from tiredness. As Seungkwan strolled to the glass-door refrigerators, Sunwoo quietly glanced up from his phone to see whose footsteps he was hearing. Seungkwan gave him a small smile. He opened the glass door, letting the cold air attack his face, and had chosen a small can of iced tea. It felt like an icicle in his hands as he kept a tight grip. After, he closed the door again and headed to Sunwoo who was running his hands through his sandy hair and yawning at the till.

 

 

This is what he usually did with Sunwoo. He bought something to make it look natural under the eyes of the surveillance cameras. It wasn't like anybody ever bothered to check these cameras, anyway, but just in case. You could never be too safe.

 

 

"Hey, Seungkwan," Sunwoo greeted, sounding completely jaded. Seungkwan had put the can on the desk for Sunwoo to scan. He wiped his hand that was wet from the can on the side of his blazer.

 

 

"The usual pay, Sunwoo, please." Seungkwan cleared his throat, referring to the pot he was searching his pocket for. The pockets inside his blazer were deep but soon he felt the small resealable bag against his cold fingertips.

  
  
  
"Sure thing, man," Sunwoo replied as he passed Seungkwan his drink back. "That's one-thousand won for the drink." Seungkwan nodded and brought out his wallet to find the blue paper he needed. He was subtle, placing the small packet of Sunwoo's goods underneath the note. He slid it along the desk before Sunwoo had taken over and grabbed it. He carefully put the packet in his back pocket and Seungkwans money in the till.

 

 

"Are you almost done, now?" Sunwoo had asked politely as he pulled out Seungkwan's payment from his vest jacket, which was part of his uniform, and quickly counted to make sure he had the right amount.

 

 

"Oh, yeah. Just one more after this." Seungkwan answered as he swiped the cash Sunwoo had slid across the surface. "Thanks." He bowed slightly as he put the money away before turning on his heel and walking to where he'd come in.

 

 

"Thanks, man. See you 'round!" Sunwoo called whilst Seungkwan had waved then stepped back out into the cool night air. Something felt different at that time. Sunwoo seemed to be less cautious about being seen. Perhaps he was just more tired than usual. Seungkwan had shaken his head and standing beside his bike, he opened the can. He put it to his lips, tilting his head back enough so that the iced tea ran down his throat. Somehow, he kept going, letting the coolness and sweetness of the liquid take over until there wasn't a drop left. There seemed to be no bin close by, so Seungkwan tossed the empty can onto the ground, hearing it rattle on the concrete. 

 

 

Seungkwan exhaled and put on his helmet, then straddled over his bike. At least now he could go see Hansol.

 

 

***

 

 

It was stupid. He knew it shouldn't by now, but it still made Seungkwan nervous when he had to go into a district he didn't belong in. Especially witnessing the damage done to Mingyu last time, he was even more fearful of entering Junhui's streets. Seungkwan still apologised to Mingyu every now and then for the shitty job he'd done with his stitches. His hands tended to tremble a lot when he was under pressure or anxious just like they were now. He gripped harder onto the handlebars of his bike until his knuckles turned white and it began to hurt.

 

 

For him, the trick to keeping on the low was to weave through the more hidden and desolate roads. Junhui had a lot of friends and men who looked out for him so Seungkwan had to be ever so careful and alert on his mission. Pushing the nerves aside, it was certainly exhilarating.

 

 

Dongdaemun-gu's neon lights of the passing market stalls and busy pubs warped into a colourful blur as Seungkwan raced down the roads. It wasn't until he turned down a tight path that he abandoned this nightlife. Around him now were buildings that seemed more rundown, to say the least -- with chipped paint on the walls and some even harbouring large graffiti designs. Some of which were even the familiar logo that belonged to the Neon Boys.

 

 

Seungkwan kept his eyes on forward, despite this. Hansol was the reason he was in this district in the first place and Seungkwan was honestly happy about that. Sitting tightly in the inside a different pocket of his usual grey jacket was the bag of goods he had saved for such a special person. Seungkwan always added extra to Hansol's bag which was unlike him. Usually, he would be very precise in measuring out the substance as he liked everything to be fair so that he knew he was getting the right money for what he was giving out. However, Hansol was unique. Seungkwan enjoyed his company a lot, maybe it was because of Hansol being the same age.

 

 

When Seungkwan had safely arrived at the park they both planned to meet in, Hansol was sitting on the swing set when Seungkwan appeared. He was slowly rocking side to side with his hands on the chains, staring off into space. He was merely a silhouette as Seungkwan had made his way closer until he sat on the swing next to him, amused at how Hansol still hadn't noticed him he was so lost in his own head. Reflected in his eyes were the stars above, the moonlight illuminating his structured face.

 

 

As much as Seungkwan could've watched Hansol, he decided to eventually interrupt his thoughts, "What're you thinking about?" He smiled. His soft voice gently eased through the silence in the empty park, over the chirping crickets and distant chatting from the streets outside the park. Seungkwan giggled quietly when Hansol jumped in his seat and looked to his right to put a face to the voice he'd heard. The boy's glittering eyes had widened and his strong brows were raised.

 

 

"Christ, Seungkwan! No one said you had to show up like a ninja." It was dark in the park, it made Hansol's wide grin beam brighter. "I missed you." Seungkwan hid his smile by dipping his head, pretending he hasn't felt his heart skip a beat.

 

 

"I have your stuff," Seungkwan had muttered and quickly brought out a similar bag he'd given to Sunwoo, only it was slightly more packed. Seungkwan looked to Hansol and shook the bag before throwing it to him. Of course, with how dark it was and Hansol being the one to try and catch it, he completely missed it and the packet fell onto the grass.

 

 

Seungkwan leaned over to laugh and the sweet tone echoed around the park. "Wow, Hansol you're so graceful," he hiccuped. He couldn't believe he actually expected Hansol to catch something. He was that clumsy it was somewhat charming.

 

 

"It's dark, okay. Plus you're a shit thrower," Hansol huffed as he'd sat back up and put the substance away in his dark bomber jacket for safekeeping.

 

 

"Yeah, yeah." Seungkwan sniffed. For a moment the two had sat in silence and Seungkwan gazed up to the night sky as he let his swing slowly drift back and forth. He admired how the stars glimmered together, how they looked like they'd twinkle and sing delicately like a music box. Hansol's deep voice only added to the comfortable air.

 

 

"Seungkwan-ah..." He looked to Hansol and raised his brows to him, giving him his full attention. Hansol had fixed his eyes to the floor and kicked the dirt with his foot. "I'm not getting a kick from this anymore... I don't think it's enough," Hansol said reluctantly. Seungkwan knew the amount he had given him was quite a bit already and to have heard he needed more to feel anything didn't seem like a good sign. Too much could certainly be dangerous.

 

 

"I have a bigger load coming in next week I'll give you some more." Seungkwan shuffled on his swing to face Hansol with his body more. "Just make sure you're taking care of yourself, okay? You know it can get worse if you go overboard." Seungkwan was almost embarrassed by how much his concern had shown in his tone but he couldn't hide it with Hansol. Hansol met his eyes and nodded with his lips pursed. He replied with a quiet, 'I know' and gave Seungkwan a reassuring smile.

 

 

"Hey, do you know who it was that Mingyu raced that night? Did he tell you? He wouldn't tell Junhui," Hansol had asked and Seungkwan immediately gave him a puzzled look. Mingyu hadn't mentioned racing somebody.

 

 

"Mingyu what? Did he race? I thought he took a wrong turn." Hansol's face dropped at Seungkwan's words.

 

 

"Shit..." The word quietly slipped out from his lips. "He didn't tell you all, did he?"

 

 

Seungkwan shook his head violently, making his caramel bangs bounce. "No!" He squeaked loudly. He should've known Mingyu was lying but he was just so caught up in treating his wounds from Chan.

 

 

"Well, Junhui caught him racing somebody and we think it was one of Wonwoo's. Dunno what kind of deal they've got going on but he wouldn't tell Junhui hyung anything. That's why he got fucked up," Hansol rambled. Seungkwan hadn't noticed he'd watched him with his mouth wide open the whole time until he'd finished. 

 

 

No wonder Mingyu had hidden that from Seungcheol or he would've gotten his ass beat even more than what Chan had done. Speaking of Seungcheol, Seungkwan felt like he had to tell him this but then again, he knew that'd mean Mingyu's patches would most definitely be ripped from his blazer and he'd be banished from the group. As loyal as he was to Seungcheol, Seungkwan didn't know if he could let that happen.

 

 

Overwhelmed with conflict, Seungkwan puffed out his cheeks and scrunched his brows. His eyes scattered around the park, unable to focus on one spot. "We were waiting for fucking ages for him to show up. He had a job to do but he'd rather pretend he's in fucking Mario Kart and race around!" Hansol giggled at Seungkwan.

 

 

"In that case, if Mingyu didn't tell Seunghceol about that... please don't tell him," Hansol ushered, forcing Seungkwan's mood to shift. Once again, he alerted his attention to Hansol who looked at him with worried eyes. Seungkwan had asked why to which Hansol replied, "You know Seungcheol better than me. It'll be chaos and there's enough of that shit already." Seungkwan knew what Hansol was like, he was against violence as much as he could've been. Although he still didn't know exactly what he was going to do, he decided to say what Hansol wanted to hear.

 

 

"I won't."

**—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Mapo Gu -- Check-In_**

He didn't want to go to sleep. In fact, he didn't think he could manage to fall asleep due to all of the thoughts and questions that bounced around inside his head as of now.

 

 

With a concentrated expression on his face, Seokmin poured more soju into the shot glass and threw the clear liquid down his throat. He'd taken that many shots by now, that unlike when he'd started around thirty minutes ago, he didn't feel the need to scrunch up his face or hiss at the burn in his throat or the overpowering tang it left in his mouth. Instead, he slammed the glass back down on the table that was littered with the empty green soju bottles by now and exhaled loudly.

 

 

In the gloomy apartment, Seokmin was the only one awake. Jeonghan, being the only other member home apart from Seokmin, was completely flat out in their bedroom, his light snores sometimes audible from where Seokmin was seated. Wonwoo and Jihoon were out doing some kind of work and Minghao had left a while ago to meet with a couple of connections from China to talk about some potential deal he had thought he could pull off with them. A deal over more drugs, of course. Minghao had seemed confident when Seokmin had heard it from him and Wonwoo must've trusted his boldness too in order to give him permission to go through with it. Though Minghao was always certain about whatever he did.

 

 

Anyway, that had resulted in Seokmin to be sat alone at the dining table, his mind humming with queries. He eyeballed the wooden surface that was dirtied with stains from kimchi and spillages that nobody had ever had time to clean up. Seokmin looked at them so strongly as if they would answer everything, but he knew they wouldn't.

 

 

Simply put, he was confused. He was unable to figure it out. It had been a few hours ago now when the last customer to leave the barber's chair had given him some interesting information that Seokmin couldn't get off his mind now. The guy he knew very well, whose name was Daehee, had sparked up the conversation about the unknown person who'd been ruining Wonwoo's business recently. Daehee had said he hadn't been approached by the man himself, but he knew that this man had gone around and spread these rumours (that Wonwoo hated so intensely) to everyone who often visited Check-In. And how somehow this man knew exactly where to find them and what he was going to tell them. Yet that wasn't even the most unusual part.

 

 

The thing that Daehee had said that struck Seokmin off-guard to almost cut the guy's ear whilst he was trimming his hair, was that this man, who had stopped so many from visiting the place recently, also  _supposedly_  belonged to a biker gang. Now, this could've easily been made up by somebody else or even Daehee himself but still, Seokmin couldn't help but feel intrigued. In Seokmin's shocked mind, this couldn't  _not_  be true.

 

 

Seokmin had leaned back in the chair and combed his hands through his gelled, chocolate hair, looking up to the ceiling that was spotted with brownish stains or marks in the shape of rings from where water had leaked above. His head was beginning to ache from how hard he'd been thinking. Either that or it was from how much soju he'd drank.

 

 

Just when Seokmin had begun to speculate that Minghao wasn't ever coming home, he heard somebody come through the door downstairs. It was faint, but he heard the bell twinkle and Minghao lock the door behind him. With heavy feet, the older had stumbled up the stairs and Seokmin winced at how loud he was being since Jeonghan was asleep.

 

 

Actually, Seokmin didn't care; Jeonghan could probably sleep through a fucking tsunami.

 

 

"Seokmin-ah," Minghao had slurred as he tumbled into the chair across the table from Seokmin. Needless to say that he was entirely wasted. He even made Seokmin look perfectly sober in this situation. Seokmin was just grateful that Minghao had expected to drink prior, and had met his friends on foot.

 

 

Minghao had leered the table with droopy eyes till they finally wandered upwards to meet Seokmin's. He raised his brows and croaked, "Shit's a fuckin' mess. Why aren't you asleep?"

 

 

"Wasn't tired," Seokmin stated which was half true. He hadn't felt tired enough to sleep before but now, he was growing weary from musing so much on Daehee's words. He poured, yet again, another shot and tossed the liquid down his throat, swallowing hard.

 

 

"You look burned out to me," Minghao had scoffed jokingly, a small smile evident on his lips.

 

 

"I'm guessing it went well," Seokmin said cheerily. He was estimating it had been good from how much alcohol Minghao had seemed to have taken. They must've gone through with his approach and celebrated with a lot of drinks. "Did they like your offer?" Seokmin leaned forward again. He had scooted his chair under the table a little more. The irritating noise from the friction between the chair and the floor filled the apartment but it didn't last long. Seokmin then rested a palm on his warm cheek that felt flustered from drinking.

 

 

Minghao gave him a closed smile and nodded slowly, "They accepted. There'll be heroin imported from Shanghai's port in no time. Once it hits the streets we'll have a lot more cash than we do now." He stumbled over his words, though Seokmin managed to comprehend them and give Minghao a pleased expression as he nodded his head.

 

 

Unsurprisingly, Minghao let out a wearied groan. He dropped his face into his large thin hands and mumbled, "Fuck... I'm so wired." Yes, Seokmin may have been slightly tipsy but he was still with it enough to realise by 'wired' Minghao could've also meant he was wired on some kind of drug right now.

 

 

"Yah, hyung, you didn't take any coke or something from them, did you?" Seokmin raised his voice only a little to make sure Minghao heard.

 

 

"Hell no. I'm not stupid. I know they could've been playing me but they didn't even have anything on them so chill. It's just the booze." Minghao's Mandarin accent had snook into his Korean when he'd answered and Seokmin only just understood what he was saying. He'd lifted his head again, dropping his palms onto the surface which accidentally caused a slam to sound. 

 

 

Underneath his long black bangs, the older male kept his sharp eyes focused directly on Seokmin. Seokmin knew it was the truth because Minghao didn't even blink. It never mattered that Minghao was a close friend because there were still times when he'd make him feel daunted, like right now. It had never been intentional. Seokmin had just felt like that a few times. 

 

 

"Anyway, what's got you drinking?" Minghao sloppily gestured to the bottles on the table. Seokmin was too worn out to come up with a way to explain it to Minghao, instead, he said the thing that had been at the front of his mind all night.

 

 

"The rat is one of us." 

 

 

"The fuck are you talking about, Seokmin?" Minghao had mumbled, his smooth voice set in a perplexed tone. His eyes were almost always closed at this point and it looked like Seokmin had just disturbed him whilst he was napping even though he hadn't been. Nevertheless, he carried on since he had to vocalise his thoughts to somebody.

 

 

"The bitch who's been spreading those dirty lies is a rider too. He's in a biker gang." Most likely because he was half pissed, Seokmin had sounded way too passionate as he fumbled over the vowels and consonants that carried on rolling out of his mouth as they lingered with the taste of alcohol.

 

 

Minghao lifted his brows high, which creased his forehead, but still kept his eyes shut. "Shit... well that narrows our options down, I guess." His voice had gradually melted away towards the end.

 

 

Seokmin let his mind carry on, "Still, it could be fucking anyone. Nobody said they were a Neon Boy or a King Rider but I wouldn't be surpr-" He jumped in his seat as Minghao's head all of a sudden slammed onto the table. He was out for good. Seokmin surveyed him with an amused look. The man had his slim arms strewn across the table and his back curved as his forehead lay somewhat uncomfortably on the oak surface.

 

 

Candidly, it was uncommon for Seokmin to have seen Minghao like this; most of the time Minghao was well put together and composed. Seokmin noticed he rarely slipped up or ever let himself relax for a minute. It was humbling for Seokmin to see this side of him.

 

 

Even though Minghao was unbelievably light, Seokmin couldn't have taken the task of slinking him over his shoulder and carrying him to his bed, where he'd certainly be more comfortable, because he wasn't exactly clear-headed himself. Why, when he'd gotten up from his chair, Seokmin felt like he was standing on a goddamn roundabout in a playground. He placed his palm on his forehead and cursed under his breath.

 

 

Once the dizziness had lessened but was yet to disappear, Seokmin couldn't have left Minghao exactly like he was. So, he stumbled to the black leather sofa in the living room, occasionally grabbing onto walls or furniture to keep upright. The apartment was open-plan so it hadn't taken long for Seokmin to get from one side of the room to the other (although he would've been much quicker if he wasn't seeing two).

 

 

Without thought, Seokmin picked up a plush, deep grey cushion. When he'd arrived back to Minghao, he lifted his head as gently as he could and slid the cushion underneath. Minghao mumbled under his breath though he didn't wake up. Seokmin had made sure he twisted his head so his cheek rested on the soft surface, just in case he did throw up in his sleep

 

 

Minghao didn't look as threatening when he was passed out, he was much more peaceful looking. Seokmin lightly patted his small shoulder that was hidden underneath his leather jacket and grinned, eyes disappearing as they curved.

 

 

"Sleep well, Minghao."

**—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Gangnam Gu -- Diamond Edge Pub_**

"Yah! I said don't get fucking tricky with me, Soonyoung!" He had heard Seungcheol snarl from behind his back. Keeping to himself, Mingyu carried on rubbing the red chalk against the tip of his cue stick, not caring that the substance got onto his fingers.

 

 

"I'm not getting tricky, you just find it tricky to beat me," Soonyoung had replied back with a cocky tone. Mingyu could have almost heard the smirk he had on his lips. His voice had sounded strained towards the end when Mingyu then heard another smack from the cue ball that had swiftly hit a coloured one. Soonyoung expressed a sound of delight as the ball sounded like it had landed in one of the pots.

 

 

Despite the game going on right behind him, Mingyu's mind was somewhere else. The bar had closed for the night two hours ago but before that Mingyu had decided he was going to sneak upstairs and take from Seungkwan's stash whilst the place was still open. That way it would've been less obvious and also easier for Mingyu. The only reason he hadn't done that and he was still yet to, was because Soonyoung had insisted on the three of them playing Cutthroat Pool until Seungkwan got back. And ever since, Mingyu hadn't found the best moment to excuse himself. Tonight was his best chance to do what Wonwoo had waited far too long for. He knew Seungkwan always kept some of the drugs for himself and sometimes the boys, excluding Mingyu himself since he didn't smoke it. Soonyoung had offered him a blunt once before and for some reason he hadn't gotten high all. So, he couldn't be caught with it as it would be too suspicious.

 

 

Mingyu expected that at 2 am, Seungkwan should've been on his way home at this time. That was why he had to hurry up before he lost his best shot. Mingyu had been at the pool table with Seungcheol and Soonyoung down in the bar for a while now and he was struggling to find the perfect time to escape. It was intensifying his paranoia

 

 

"Mingyu-ah! It's your go!" Soonyoung had chimed. It brought Mingyu back to reality, making him notice he had been so lost in his head that he'd been scrubbing away at the cue stick with this chalk so much that the red cube had a much deeper dent in it, and his fingertips were completely covered. He spun around in one sharp motion and chuckled an apology.

 

 

"You looked like you were off in another world. What're you thinking about?" Soonyoung asked as he'd made his way over to Mingyu and politely took the small cube from his loose grip.

 

 

Mingyu put on a mischievous grin and had raised his cue upwards to slide his hands into position. He replied with faux confidence, "I'm just thinking about how I'm gonna beat your ass right now."

 

 

On the other side of the large pool table, Seungcheol laughed, "Mingyu, you're awful at this and you know it. You literally hit Soonyoung in the fucking crotch with your last shot and made him scream like a girl." Soonyoung had suddenly stopped chalking his cue stick before launching it at Seungcheol who laughed again.

 

 

"That fucking hurt, okay!" Soonyoung yapped. "He doesn't realise his own strength." He pouted and rubbed his lower stomach. 

 

 

Mingyu had bent over the table and carefully lined the end of the cue up with the white ball. He tried his best to suppress the slight shaking in his hands as much as he could. Since it was Cutthroat Pool, he was after one of the balls from Soonyoung's set. Throughout the whole game, three out of five of Soonyoung's balls had been potted so far. Seungcheol had one left and so did Mingyu.

 

 

With full concentration, his eyes focused on ball number ten. It was a pretty simple shot and with one steady hit, the striped blue ball rolled smoothly across the purple material and into the hole. He looked up and twisted his head behind to flash Soonyoung a pleased smirk. Soonyoung narrowed his eyes.

 

 

After that, he'd travelled around to the other end of the table where Seungcheol was and located the green ball labelled number six. This shot was certainly more difficult, with his last ball in the way, Mingyu had had to aim so number six just got past without even skimming it. It was strange, for some reason when Mingyu was least bothered, he was unusually good at pool compared to other days. After one hit and the ball had fallen into the pot, Soonyoung let out a defeated groan.

 

 

"Shit, Mingyu! I never thought I'd see the day," he had said whilst he rested his cue stick on the wall. "If you manage to pot Seungcheol's last ball too I'll let you hit me with another ball, I swear." He has sat at one of the tables that surrounded the pool table.

 

 

If this wasn't a race against time, Mingyu would've felt more pleased with himself for defeating Soonyoung however the reminder that Seungkwan was most likely on his way back home now was ringing in his head and he was simply desperate to get out of this now. 

 

 

"There's no way I can let him beat me," Seungcheol butted in. There was only one ball Mingyu could have gone for now and he stalked around the pool table, keeping his eye on it as if he was making sure it didn't disappear.

 

 

"Watch me," Mingyu muttered whilst he hovered over the table. It was a simple shot - straight forward. Well, it would've been a simple shot if Soonyoung hadn't decided to sneeze the loudest he'd ever sneezed in his life just as Mingyu had hit the ball.

 

 

"Fuck!" Mingyu had yelped and watched in despair as the ball leapt onto the floor with a loud bang. He stood upright to turn and look at Soonyoung who gave him wide eyes.

 

 

"I'm so sorry, Mingyu!" He said innocently, true panic in his voice. Seungcheol cheered in triumph that he'd won and Mingyu had replied with a snarl before loudly placing his cue on the table.

 

 

"I need to piss," he had stated and left the two to start a new game. Initially, he had walked calmly and slowly through the bar but once he'd gotten to the stairs where they wouldn't have been able to see him, Mingyu sped up, skipping a few steps as he went up. Their living space was empty as of now which meant there were no lights on. Since Mingyu would've been going into Seungkwan's and Soonyoung's room, he didn't want to turn his light on and attract anybody's attention if they came up. So, he brought out his phone and turned on his torch.

 

 

Their bedroom was cool; both Seungkwan's and Soonyoung's windows were open. Probably to keep the strong smell of the drugs out as much as possible. It couldn't have been the nicest thing to sleep with, Mingyu thought.

 

 

Unfortunately, he didn't actually know where Seungkwan kept his stash which meant he was going to have to look around.

 

 

Mingyu checked one last time and peeked his head out of the door before turning back around and went straight for Seungkwan's shared wardrobe with Soonyoung. With one hand holding his phone pointed to where he was rummaging through the clothes, he failed to find anything. Mingyu huffed and closed the wardrobe. He spun around and rushed to Seungkwan's bed. There was no time for sulking.

 

 

Mingyu had totally forgotten about being discreet now as he tossed Seungkwan's pillows away, but not before shoving his hand inside the covers and raking around for any packet that could've been in there. He had felt nothing. He threw the bedsheet around in hopes of something dropping out but still nothing. There wasn't even anything underneath the bed itself. During his game of hide and seek with the drugs, Mingyu was slowly losing his breath - he was almost panting like a dog now.

 

 

In the midst of messing up Seungkwan's sleeping space, the bottom sheet had slipped off, revealing the mattress underneath that it had been covering. Then, Mingyu had noticed something. He had stepped back and shone his phone onto the side of the mattress to see a hole in it, most likely from a knife or a pair of scissors. It was a reasonably large hole too, too large to be a mistake. Without pondering over it too much, Mingyu had crouched down and shoved his hand inside. Frantically, he searched for something, anything.

 

 

Bingo.

 

 

Luckily, after around thirty seconds of panic, Mingyu's fingers had brushed against a plastic material and he knew his suspicions hadn't been wrong. He'd grabbed onto it and pulled it out from the mattress. Success. Seungkwan's stash. Unable to contain the accomplished smile on his face, Mingyu shone the light from his phone onto the bag. He'd decided not to take it all since that would without a doubt get him caught. Instead, he opened the bag, wary of the stench that escaped when he did so, and dug out a few chunks of the green substance. It certainly wasn't as much as Minghao had asked for, or how much Wonwoo seemed to have wanted, but Mingyu simply hoped it was enough to let him loose.

 

 

Nevertheless, no matter how fast Mingyu had been, he seemingly hadn't been fast enough; whilst he was still crouched on the bedroom floor, he was able to hear slow footsteps that made their way up the stairs to the flat. For a moment, Mingyu had frozen and his ears pricked up. He heard a male softly singing to himself, cheerfully and quietly... It was Seungkwan.

 

 

Mingyu's eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet, putting the bag back inside Seungkwan's mattress and tucking the white sheet back in as much as he could with how fast he was going. He put what he'd stolen inside his blazer pocket and wiped his hand on his trousers. Mingyu's mind flooded with excuses and reasons he could've told Seungkwan he was in his bedroom yet they all disappeared once Sungkwan opened the door just before Mingyu had been able to.

 

 

As the door had flung open, Seungkwan let out a loud scream which had caused Mingyu to do the same. At least the members wouldn't have gotten suspicious since Seungkwan was always fucking screaming anyway, as much as Seungkwan didn't want to admit it.

 

 

"SHIT, Mingyu!" Seungkwan clutched his chest and whined. He was such a huge drama queen. Mingyu had chuckled nervously and tried to slide his way past Seungkwan like it wasn't even questionable as to what he was doing in his bedroom. He had to get out without being asked, or he was fucked. Unfortunately, Seungkwan wasn't an idiot; he'd stepped across to stop Mingyu from escaping through the doorway. Mingyu had bumped into the younger's hard chest and huffed. Yup, he was fucked. He looked down at Seungkwan's face that said it all: his brows were raised and he'd pursed his lips.

 

 

Refusing to give up, Mingyu placed his hand on Seungkwan's shoulder that had disappeared underneath the size of it and smiled softly. He'd tapped it a few times before he said, "You can let me out now, Kwannie." Usually, Mingyu's charming, toothy smile was enough to get him out of any situation he wanted to evacuate but tonight, Seungkwan didn't seem to be falling for it. He'd grabbed Mingyu's lightly tattoed hand then peeled it from his shoulder and brought it back down to Mingyu's side. Seungkwan mirrored the smile Mingyu had given him.

 

 

"I don't think so, Gyu," The smaller had said prior to glancing over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. Soonyoung seemed to be in the kitchen and Seungcheol was just going into his office so Seungkwan quietly closed the door and flipped the light switch on. Now Mingyu was able to see Seungkwan's face rather than when he'd relied on the lights from behind Seungkwan that seeped into the bedroom before the door had been shut. Mingyu was ushered to Seungkwan's bed where he sat down.

 

 

Seungkwan stayed standing in front of Mingyu who tilted his head back to look up at him. Seungkwan began, "I know you've been after something I have, Mingyu. You've been eyeing up this room for days now. What do you want?" He folded his arms and leaned his weight onto his hip.

 

 

As the room had fallen silent whilst Mingyu raked through his mind for an answer and Seungkwan waited for one, the muffled voices of the others were heard from outside the bedroom. They must've given up with pool now that Seungkwan had returned. Mingyu's body tensed and he prayed that no one else would come in as that would've meant more trouble.

 

 

"It's nothing. I just thought I heard something-" Mingyu's rambling was shortly cut off when Seungkwan yelled and leaned down to inspect the mattress.

 

 

"Yah! Have you been trying to take my shit?!" God dammit. Mingyu peeked over the bed to notice he hadn't pulled the sheet over the mattress enough and the hole was visible for Seungkwan to notice. The younger had pulled out the bag which looked emptier than before Mingyu had taken from it. Mingyu hissed a curse word and dipped his head. He knew he was going to have to tell Seungkwan the truth now; he was shit at lying.

 

 

"I can explain, Seungkwan. Just listen." Mingyu had enjoined and grabbed Seungkwan's wrist to bring him to sit beside him on the bed. Seungkwan had a face that was mixed with confusion and frustration as Mingyu tried to explain why he was taking his weed.

 

 

After a few minutes of clarifying, Seungkwan had finally seemed to wrap his head around it. It was a surprise for Mingyu to see that Seungkwan wasn't freaking out. 

 

 

Instead, he mumbled to himself, "Ah... now that makes sense." 

 

 

"What?" Mingyu asked but Seungkwan quickly told him it was nothing.

 

 

Mingyu let out a breath that he'd kept in throughout the duration of talking to Seungkwan and dipped his head, letting his hands run through his soft hair. He pulled at the strands tightly with stress and huffed.

 

 

"I'm fucked... aren't I?" He kept his head there. "Wonwoo's got me wrapped around his fucking finger already. I know what'll happen. He'll ask for more." Mingyu's fingers pulled harder on the locks until it began to hurt at the roots. He'd felt a hand slowly slide up his back and pat gently.

 

 

"Jeon Wonwoo hasn't caught you just yet. We'll think of a way to get you outta this, I swear. I don't care if it costs my whole business, Gyu. You know we're all brothers and I'd do anything for you just like I would for Soonyoung or Seungcheol." He'd spoken with enough passion that Mingyu was able to lift his head and look at him again. Seungkwan looked up to Mingyu. He looked tired. His eyes were almost bloodshot and they blinked so slowly. The smile on his lips was sincere yet it also seemed weak.

 

 

"You won't tell anyone, will you? I'd be nothing if I wasn't a King Rider," Mingyu muttered through slightly pouted lips. It wasn't like Mingyu didn't trust Seungkwan, it was just he knew how loyal he was to the group. Mingyu felt his heart ache at the thought of losing his place in this gang, however, Seungkwan's words almost completely eliminated that pain.

 

 

"We'll fix this together, Mingyu. Nobody else. I won't tell anyone; we can't risk it." He'd given Mingyu one last reassuring pat on the back before getting to his feet again. Since Seungkwan seemed to be walking to the door, Mingyu to up and followed.

 

 

"Get some rest and we'll talk about this tomorrow, yeah? I have to go speak with Seungcheol about my deals tonight and then I can finally go to sleep. Goodnight, hyung!" Seungkwan had chimed whilst leaving the bedroom and going in the direction of Seungcheol's office room. Mingyu bid his goodnights to the younger and then went to his own bedroom. Just before he opened the door, however, Soonyoung's energetic voice stopped him in his tracks.

 

 

"Seungcheol wants a rematch, by the way, Mingyu!" He'd said loudly from the kitchen and Mingyu had heard the fridge door close afterwards. 

 

 

He rolled his eyes and replied mockingly, "Sure."

 

 

In Mingyu's shared bedroom with Seungcheol, Mingyu finally felt peace. After closing the door, he let his body fall onto his bed as he let out an enormous sigh. It was soon followed by a painful grunt since he'd totally forgotten about his painful ribs from Chan - that kid was fucking strong.

 

 

For a minute or two, the soothing sound of nothing but the cars racing past outside below Mingyu was enough to pull Mingyu into a deep sleep. If it wasn't for the annoyingly loud ping that had come from his phone just before he could. His phone had been lying on his bed where he'd left it and he picked it up as he sat back upright again.

 

 

The message that had shown up on his phone was from an unknown number. It was simple yet it shot so much stress back into Mingyu's veins.

 

 

He whispered the words on the screen to himself, "Remember your deadline, Mingyu. Be a good boy for me, yeah?"


	5. Innocence and Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy, love you <3 
> 
>  
> 
> [padlet](https://padlet.com/mmxchi/a0h8t0lcn4ne)

  
  
  
**— May -- S** **_eoul -- Seongbuk Gu_ **

"Hansol..."

 

 

It suddenly became so bright. Waking up to the sound of curtains raking open and the harsh light from outside invading his dreams wasn't what he'd asked for yet he still got it. A gentle hand tapped his back and the honey voice repeated itself, then the hand tapped a little more.

 

 

Hansol groaned.

 

 

With his arms tucked beneath his pillow, he laid on his front. Another croaky groan escaped his lips and muffled into the pillow as the warm hand didn't leave him alone and carried on to bug him. He didn't want to open his eyes, he didn't want to wake up but the figure that hovered over his tired frame didn't give up.

 

 

It's warm voice, that Hansol quickly noticed was male, purred softly again, "You've gotta get up, Hansol. You've been asleep for way too long. Are you feeling okay?" As sweet and as sincere the voice had sounded, Hansol wanted nothing more than to block it out and drift back into his dreams. He pulled the sheets over his head and pretended the body that stood beside his bed wasn't there. Maybe if he ignored them they would just disappear.

 

 

For a moment, he thought it'd worked; there was a small sigh above him before he could hear the sound of sliders shuffling on the wooden floor in the direction of his bedroom door.

 

 

He relaxed and let the drowsiness take over again...

 

 

"CHWE HANSOL!"

 

 

Hansol scrunched his face. 

 

 

"Get up! You're so lazy these days!" An incredibly loud, colourful voice had burst through the door of Hansol's bedroom and blared like the most annoying alarm he had ever heard. This voice was even more familiar than the last and he could have never mistaken who it belonged to: it was Chan.

 

 

Two hands, smaller than the person before, were more forward this time. They stripped the thick bedsheets from Hansol's shirtless body and grabbed his shoulders to shake him awake. Undoubtedly, Chan was very energetic. Hansol felt like he was Chan's baby rattle since he shook him that vigorously. He was forced to sit up.

 

 

"Alright, alright!" He snapped. "I'm up!" The annoyance that showed in Hansol's rough voice had seemed to be enough persuasion for Chan to stop. Now, Hansol was able to notice that Jisoo was also in the room and most likely the softer one who had tried to get him up initially. The slender male had a sweet, gentle smile on his lips and the glowing sun from the window across the room had brought the light to illuminate his most angelic features.

 

 

Jisoo opened his mouth, letting the honey words slip out of his lips, "Good morning, bro!" He had exclaimed and made his way closer to pat Hansol's bare shoulder before turning off the lamp that was on his bedside table. 

 

 

Hansol had replied with a grumpy 'morning' and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

 

 

"It's almost noon. You came home pretty late last night and you've been fast asleep ever since," Jisoo explained whilst he sat beside Hansol on the bed.

 

 

Last night... last night.  _Shit._

 

 

Hansol bowed his head and let it fall into his clammy hands. Now last night was coming back to him. Poking his face out of his hands, he peeked at his bedside table to notice the packet Seungkwan had handed him last night was completely empty. Had he really smoked it all last night? Hansol's thick brows had scrunched together and he let out a prolonged groan.

 

 

Chan must've noticed what he was looking at. He shuffled onto the bed and looked at Hansol. Hansol felt the concern in Chan's eyes burn into the back of his head as he spoke, "You should try and cut back, Hansol. Your face is grey, you look like a fucking zombie... no offence. But you've been like this for the past month." 

 

 

"Hasn't Seungkwan noticed?" Jisoo asked.

 

 

"Seungkwan's a fucking drug dealer, hyung. Pushers don't give a shit as long as they're getting cash," Chan snarled. His harsh words on Seungkwan made Hansol flinch.

 

 

Seungkwan cared. He did. Didn't he?

 

 

"Come on." Chan stretched over the length of the bed to tap Hansol's back, to which Hansol slightly jerked at the sudden coldness from Chan's small fingertips. "Junhui hyung left for the arcade a long time ago and I've been waiting all morning for you to wake up. Even Jisoo has been out running errands and you've slept through the whole fucking thing!" Chan exclaimed as he slid off the bed the same time as Jisoo did.

 

 

"Shit, sorry, Chan. You really aren't helping me in feeling any less guilty," Hansol grumbled as he'd kicked his legs off the bed and onto the floor before standing up.

 

 

"Sorry... I'm just worried, that's all." Chan pouted. Hansol looked at him from across the bed and smiled involuntarily; he sure was cute when he wanted to be.

 

 

Jisoo had begun rushing around and swiping up random items of clothing along with rubbish around Hansol's shared bedroom with Chan. Whilst throwing the clothes in the wash basket, he tutted with a joking tone, "What did you three do before I arrived, hm?"

 

 

"We had fun," Chan had replied with sass which made Jisoo stop in his tracks to give the youngest a deadly glare. Of course, Chan didn't take long before was darting over to Jisoo, giggling and tugging on his jacket, begging for forgiveness. Hansol had watched and smiled before throwing on a shirt and stating, whilst scratching his head, he was off to get breakfast (if it even counted as breakfast at this time of the day).

 

 

It hadn't come to a surprise that not even two steps out of the bedroom, Chan was already on his heel. The boy was a fiery ball of energy today and Hansol only wished he was too. As Hansol trudged around the kitchen in his shorts, making his bowl of cereal, Chan was by his side talking closely to him.

 

 

"There's something on your mind... What is it?" His voice was secretive as if Jisoo wasn't allowed to hear what was being said even if he was across the apartment and still quietly cleaning up in the bedroom.

 

 

Hansol decided not to say anything to Chan for a minute. Pouring the milk into his bowl, he pondered about the thing that was on his mind.  _Seungkwan_. Hansol now realised the big mistake he had made when he'd revealed to Seungkwan what Mingyu actually did that night. 

 

 

It was his own fault for not thinking straight, though he never did around Seungkwan.

  
  


"You're not allowed to worry about me. We are supposed to worry about you, maknae," Hansol chuckled and ruffled Chan's wavy hair that was soft under his hand. 

 

 

He picked up his bowl and shuffled to the sofa across the room. As he shoved his first spoonful of cereal into his significantly dry mouth, he did think about telling Chan that he was fucking terrified in case Seungkwan had told Seungcheol but then again, he never told Chan what he talked about to Seungkwan and he didn't want to start too.

 

 

After Hansol swallowed, he teased Chan who had stood in front of him, waiting for an answer, "Don't stress your tiny little brain." He grinned.

 

 

To gently nudge Chan's knee with his foot, he had lifted his leg and did so. Chan simply narrowed his eyes as if this was going to allow him into Hansol's mind palace, a place that was clearly disturbing him right now. He then took the seat beside the elder before turning on the TV for some sort of background noise other than the sound of Jisoo fidgeting around the place, with a cloth, as he tidied the surface Hansol had only just made a mess on with his cereal.

 

 

"Although... you should probably sort yourself out for this meetup, you know," Chan suggested. Hansol knew what he was thinking: Junhui might not think twice about his drug consumption and that could affect his reaction time if anything was to happen tonight. These meetups were dangerous. Anyone could pull a trigger at any time and with the tension between the three groups right now it was twice as risky.

 

 

"I'm fine!" Hansol snapped, letting his spoon drop loudly in the bowl. 

 

 

He loved Chan, he was like a little brother to him but for the love of Christ, he could go on. Hansol knew he wasn't in good condition right now and he didn't need people reminding him of his mistakes. He just couldn't control it. It wasn't enough anymore, he missed the buzz.

 

 

"Whatever you say..." Chan continued, "but I have a feeling no one is going to be leaving with a smile on their face tonight."

 

 

"We never have," Hansol stated between chews, awarding a hum in agreement from Chan.

 

 

"Jisoo hyung! I hope you're praying for Jesus to keep our asses safe tonight!" Chan called out with a wide smile to Jisoo behind. He sounded so carefree despite the fact any one of them could potentially die tonight.

 

 

"What, is it really that bad?" Jisoo's quiet voice asked as it grew closer to the two. He sat on the same sofa beside Hansol so he was now sandwiched between him and Chan.

 

 

Hansol scoffed, "I've never been so on edge in my life compared to when we're all in the same fucking room as those guys. Everybody looks at each other like they're just waiting for somebody to pop off and usually somebody will." He'd spoken with the spoon of cereal hovering in front of his moving lips until he finished and shoved the food in his mouth.

 

 

He looked to Jisoo. The older male was staring at the TV yet he didn't seem like he was paying attention to it. Hansol couldn't get over how out of place he seemed here. 

 

 

Jisoo was like a deer in headlights sometimes—there were still moments when he would have to ask Junhui where he stood, or need help catching up with important news. What's more is whenever Hansol looked into his doe eyes because he didn't see what he saw in say Junhui's, in Jisoo's there was only innocence. 

 

 

Innocence and  _guilt_. 

 

 

Everybody had a story. Hansol knew Chan's and Junhui's, so he wanted to figure out Jisoo's. What exactly brought him here? Why did he cling to Junhui for months doing any small task Junhui had offered him until he was finally brought into the group. What made him so determined?

  
  


These were all things Hansol was itching to know.

 

 

"Don't worry, hyung. Pretty sure Junhui's spirit animal is a panther; he's always protected us." Chan's reassuring voice had managed to rip Jisoo's gaze from whatever cop, crime show was on the TV to himself.

 

 

Hansol was just about to ask Jisoo something before Chan shot up from the sofa, phone in hands.

 

 

"Fuck, I'm late!" He whined whilst shoving his phone back in the big pocket of his denim jacket that swallowed his small body whole. "It's my shift at the arcade, shit, hyung is gonna kill me."

 

 

Hansol watched in amusement as Chan fumbled around the apartment, Jisoo's giggling beside him.

 

 

"I'll see you guys later tonight, yeah? Love you both!"

 

 

"Later!" Hansol had replied around a mouthful of cereal and he noticed Jisoo gave the boy a wave before he disappeared out the apartment door.

 

 

Once the door had closed abruptly, the only noise in the apartment was the quiet chatter from the television and the clinking of Hansol's spoon against the bowl.

 

 

"Wow, that kid's all over the place," Jisoo chuckled, leaning back into the sofa, Hansol felt it sink slightly as he had done so. Once again, he looked across to Jisoo beside him. 

 

 

Now was his chance.

 

 

"Why are you here, hyung?" Hansol asked carefully. He leaned over and placed the bowl onto the coffee table before sinking back into the cushions, this time facing Jisoo. His eyes had suddenly lost their spark and his pink lips switched from a smile to a small 'o' shape.

 

 

"Oh, I can go back to tidying up if you wanna be alone-" He'd begun to leave his seat but Hansol stopped him.

 

 

"No, no." He shook his hands and head. "I mean, why are you  _here._ What're your reasons?" Hansol wasn't sure if this was a good idea yet he was too curious to not take this opportunity.

 

 

Jisoo sighed. He faced Hansol who was waiting silently and looking into those eyes of, this time, regret.

 

 

"I like to ride, isn't that enough?"

**—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Mapo Gu -- Check-In_**

It was more silent right now than it was whenever Wonwoo walked into a room full of people. Well, almost. If it wasn't for Minghao who impatiently bounced his leg as he sat backwards on one of the barber chairs. Wonwoo wasn't able to see the anticipation in his eyes behind the designer sunglasses but he knew it was there.

 

 

Darkness pooled into the room and the pale moonlight was spilling through the gaps of the blinds, creating black, lined shadows that stretched along the tall walls. Above and spinning leisurely was the ceiling fan as its shadow danced around the room slowly. Even though it wasn't necessarily hot, the small breeze it brought was still pleasant and Wonwoo's hair moved a little everytime it came past.

 

 

There were times where he'd long for peace and cherished the times when he would finally be able to hear his own thoughts however there were other moments when he begged for a distraction from his mind, right now had seemed like one of those moments.

 

 

He'd decided he was going to finally cut through the quietness with a sarcastic tone, "Is there a reason why you're wearing those sunglasses in the evening or is this another one of your fashion shows?" He looked across from where he sat on the sofa to Minghao and slipped his cigarette between his smiling lips to draw the smoke from it.

 

 

Minghao's downturned lips had quickly curled upwards once he laughed mockingly and shook his head. He replied in a monotoned voice that seemed unphased, "I'm fucking tired, alright?"

 

 

"Hungover," Seokmin had taunted, earning a ringed middle finger from Minghao. Seokmin had scowled at Minghao then turned to Wonwoo to ask, "Wonwoo hyung, you sent that message to your giant puppy dog last night, yeah?" 

 

 

Jihoon snorted at Seokmin's teasing.

 

 

"Of course I fucking did. I wouldn't have gone through all that work to get that long bitch's number for nothing, you know." And Wonwoo only wished he could've seen Mingyu's face when he'd read it. To see his innocent brown eyes widen or his face to drop with terror would've been a delight for him. It hadn't been in the plan for Wonwoo to have called Mingyu a 'good boy' in the text but he couldn't stop himself at the time.

 

 

Absolutely, apart from gaining authority over him, Wonwoo wanted to toy with Mingyu's emotions too. And he couldn't wait to play with them even more at the meetup tonight.

 

 

Wonwoo shuffled uncomfortably in the brown sofa, switching which leg he had crossed over the other. He hissed, "And he's not my puppy dog."

 

 

Jeonghan scoffed from the working table where he was casually cleaning up the assortments of razors and combs, "Yeah, right! You've got that kid on a damn leash." Well, Wonwoo would've liked to think that he did, but he also didn't want to be known as the leader who had feelings for a rival member. Because that wasn't the case.

 

 

"No, I'm just doing business," Wonwoo snapped back in defence, giving Jeonghan his infamous cold stare which worked every single time. He had quickly shut him back up, sending him back to quietly wiping the razors with a cloth.

 

 

Just when Wonwoo thought it was over, Jihoon added in from beside him on the sofa, "So business for you is asking any connections you have if they have the kid's phone number?"

 

 

Wonwoo elbowed Jihoon's side.

 

 

"I have a good fucking reason for that! I was only texting him to keep him reminded." Wonwoo shot forward on the couch, looking behind over his shoulder to scowl at Jihoon who had a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he rubbed his side.

 

 

"And you think it worked? You think he'll hand it over tonight, or give you another poor excuse?" Jihoon asked, raising a brow at Wonwoo who had taken another long drag from his cigarette and blew it up to the ceiling.

 

 

The smoke continued to escape from his lips and nose as he spoke with conviction, "Yeah, I know it worked and he  _will_  hand it over tonight. Otherwise, there will be consequences, I can guarantee."

 

 

Consequences. Wonwoo hadn't even thought about what kind of repercussions he had in store for Mingyu. Perhaps he could spill to Seungcheol what Mingyu had been doing behind his leader's back, or maybe he could have some fun...

 

 

"Say he does and you're happy with what you've received. What's after that? You reward him?" Seokmin asked, folding his elbows over the back of the other barber chair beside Minghao and resting his chin on his arms.

 

 

Wonwoo opened his mouth to reply yet Jihoon beat him to it, "Yeah, with a good fuck-"

 

 

"We demand more," Wonwoo raised his voice, cutting Jihoon off and speaking over the giggles from the others. "And we keep dictating until he crumbles. Then we take over."

 

 

"And  _then_  you fuck him?" Jeonghan flashed his forever misleading smile from across the room to which Wonwoo rolled his eyes at. Anybody that ever looked at that sweet, innocent twinkle he had would've thought of him to be utterly sweet when in reality, Jeonghan was a fallen angel, his wings had been clipped for all sorts of sinful things he'd done. Still, Jeonghan was one of Wonwoo's finest weapons.

 

 

"And  _then..._ " Wonwoo glared at Jeonghan, managing to keep his temper controlled. "That will be one club down. We'll have their turf as well as everything they own and we gain power as Seungcheol loses it. Hopefully, by then this place will be back to normal. It's only a matter of time between us all and we have to make the move before Junhui or Seungcheol beats us to it." Wonwoo was entirely confident in each and every word that he had allowed to pass his lips. 

 

 

He only wanted what was best for himself and his crew, that was always what he'd wanted. Even if it meant he had to act like a heartless bitch sometimes.

 

 

He leaned back in the sofa again, satisfied with his reply.

 

 

"Sounds good to me," Jihoon said.

 

 

Wonwoo stared at the grey, carpeted floor, listening to Minghao fidget. There was a quiet squeaking of his leather jacket brushing against the black leather of the chair as he fixed his hair in the mirror. Not to mention, there was also the racket from Jeonghan who was still fiddling with the hairdressing tools which Wonwoo found mildly annoying. 

 

 

He glanced up at the shabby clock on the wall of chipped paint and framed photos of men's hairstyles and Minghao's tattoo works. Meetups had always begun at exactly midnight and as of now, it was merely just gone eleven. It only took around twenty minutes to get to Gangnam-Gu, where the meetups were held, and anyway, Wonwoo liked to be fashionably late so he hadn't to worry about the time currently.

 

 

He shifted his gaze down from the wall and to Seokmin where his face was in a pout. Wonwoo simply put this down to the fact that he'd raised his voice quite a bit at him last night for drinking all the alcohol that was left.

 

 

Wonwoo was tired of waiting. He quickly stood up from the sofa and exhaled heavily. Instead of sitting around doing nothing until it was time to leave, he'd decided he was going to make sure his bike was ready, which also meant he could catch some fresh night air.

 

 

"I'll be out back," he had stated and began to leave, yet Jihoon called out for him to stop. Wonwoo spun around and looked down to see Jihoon was leaned forward on the couch with his hand out.

 

 

"Gimme a puff first." He glanced down to the cigarette, held loosely in Wonwoo's fingers, then back to Wonwoo's eyes.

 

 

Wonwoo had taken one last drag from the cigarette before he stepped forward and slipped it between Jihoon's smaller fingers. He patted his hand.

 

 

"Keep it, I was done with it anyway," he said before leaving the room.

 

 

As Wonwoo got to the back door and unlocked it, he swung it open and let the cold night air hit his face. He found it enlivening. Leaving the door ajar, he hopped down the three steps. 

 

 

On the concrete ground, Wonwoo noticed it was damp from the rain that had been off and on all day long. The sky was completely black yet he could still see the thick, threatening rain clouds that hung above, only making the night even darker. Luckily enough, the intense white light that fell from the streetlamp in the back alley was enough for Wonwoo. He was a cat at night, those sharp eyes were amazingly precise working in the dark.

 

 

Wonwoo ran his angular fingers through his gelled hair as he strolled towards his motorbike, his most prized possession. It was a Kawasaki Estrella BJ250, originally made for the Japanese markets in 1991 yet Wonwoo had managed to grab one for himself. He kneeled down and lightly trailed his fingers along the long, black seat that was slightly wet. Wonwoo scrunched his brows. He admired the colours of the version, for him, this was mostly black with a red design where the words 'Estrella' were placed on the fairly small gas tank compared to bikes today. Like always, Wonwoo's bike shone beautifully, especially under the gentle moonlight gleam tonight. He slowly stood back up again and placed one hand on the handlebar to look up at the stars.

 

 

"Wonwoo hyung."

 

 

Wonwoo turned his head to the door at the call of his name. Seokmin was stood on the steps, his face plagued with distress. Wonwoo dipped his head and chuckled, sitting down on his bike sideways, "Jihoon teasing you now?"

 

 

Seokmin scoffed, "I'm not the one who has a soft spot for Seungcheol's Labrador."

 

 

Wonwoo looked at Seokmin through hooded eyes and snarled, "I don't know Mingyu and I have no interest in him except his fucking drugs and the name he belongs to." He folded his arms and watched Seokmin giggle most likely at how sensitive Wonwoo was being on the subject.

 

 

He soon calmed down and lowered his tone. "Look, I need to tell you something that's making me go insane." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.

 

 

Wonwoo sighed. "If this is about last night I'm sorry, alright? I was just a little worked up from a job I'd had to do with Jihoon, I wasn't really that mad at you-"

 

 

"No, it isn't about that." Seokmin stepped onto the ground and sat on his own bike that was parked close to the opposing wall of the alley.

 

 

"Oh?" Wonwoo tilted his head.

 

 

"Uh-long story short," Seokmin sighed and smoothed the seat of his bike with his hand. "I have a feeling somebody at the meetup tonight is the cause of all our problems lately."

 

 

Wonwoo nodded slowly. It hadn't been what he was expecting from Seokmin but it was no doubt better because truthfully, he actually  _was_  pissed off last night that there had been no booze left when he'd gotten back since he could've really done with some at the time. Though he wouldn't have told Seokmin that—he didn't want to fade Seokmin's shine that the group needed so much.

 

 

"Oh, you mean one of  _those_  bastards has been spreading this shit?" Wonwoo asked as he'd grabbed one of the sleeves of his leather jacket to straighten it out.

 

 

"Yeah, that's what I mean."

 

 

Wonwoo stood up and stepped closer to Seokmin; he wanted the younger to believe him when he'd said this, "You know, you're probably right, Seokmin, but don't stress it." He'd gifted him a genuine smile, then pointed his long index finger to Seokmin's direction and widened his smile into a beam. "I'll make sure to scare them all shitless tonight that whoever it is will  _have_  to own up."

**—**   ** _M_** ** _ay -- Seoul -- Gangnam Gu_**

If there was anywhere Mingyu could've been as of now, it would've surely been much better than here.

 

 

If he thought about it, Mingyu hadn't been this nervous since the night he was initiated as a King Rider by Seungcheol. Back then he was much younger, yet at twenty-one, there were still some things that brought him nerves. It wasn't even the meetup that was frightening to him: it was what he had to do and what could potentially happen if he didn't do it. He brought a shaky hand to his silk, black tie and adjusted it as it'd felt tight on his throat. Or was it his oesophagus that was tight because of the anxiety that was wrapping itself around to shorten his breathing.

 

 

Mingyu hadn't missed this place. Not the low ceilings that belonged to this underground parking lot nor how open and cold its space was here. There were virtually never any other cars or people down here since it was neglected so every parking space was always left empty, making the place seem even bigger and intimidating.

 

 

Since he was on the end of the line, Mingyu leaned forward to see how the others were. Like always, Soonyoung looked like he was just about to burst with energy, he didn't sit still on his vehicle. Seungcheol was as calm and as sharp-looking as ever, his poker face ready, and on the end, Mingyu caught eyes with a large pair that belonged to Seungkwan.

 

 

Somehow, the younger must've been able to spot the fear in Mingyu's own eyes as he seemed to mouth the words, 'It's gonna be alright', before passing Mingyu a heartening closed smile. Mingyu replied with a small nod as he bit the inside of his cheek.

 

 

"What's taking them so long?" Soonyoung whined and checked his watch. "It's three minutes until midnight. If we have to wait any longer I'm gonna have to start walking around the place, I'm dying here." His last few words were muffled as he'd dropped his face into his hands.

 

 

Seungcheol's deep voice resonated over Soonyoung's impatient groans, "Calm down, Cinderella, nothing's gonna happen once the clock strikes midnight. They should be here soon," he remarked and Mingyu watched him as he flashed a threatening look across to Soonyoung who lifted his head again and pouted.

 

 

"What I'd like to happen is for everyone to be here..." He muttered quietly, presumably too afraid to have spoken clearly in case Seungcheol actually heard him.

 

 

Mingyu sighed.

 

 

It wasn't a surprise at all that they were first to arrive since that was usually how it went. Junhui was always late because of his two teenagers most likely pissing about and getting high and as for Wonwoo, well he simply arrived when he felt like it.

 

 

A distant rumble began to increase in volume as it seemed to get closer.

 

 

"Oh, shit..." Seungkwan whispered as he looked over his shoulder causing Mingyu to do the same.

 

 

It was the Neon Boys. Their logos on the backs of their jackets glowed a vibrant, neon blue into the dark building, it was almost brighter than their headlights. As the radiant group sped down the ramp, Mingyu's head followed who he guessed, with his smaller figure and denim jacket, was Chan. As anyone would've expected, the boy had decided to play and work around the pillars, letting the tires of his vehicle skid and screech as he did so.

 

 

Way to make an entrance.

 

 

Like always, the rest parked in another line to the right of Mingyu's. Hansol watched Chan who entertained him like an overexcited kid as he had begun to cheer and lead Chan on with a wide grin on his glowing face. Mingyu couldn't believe that he was actually a young adult.

 

 

"Seungcheol!" Junhui yelled over the uproar Chan was creating and lifted his hands up with a toothy smile. "Nice to see you again, man!" He then dropped them onto his thighs and rubbed enthusiastically, or maybe he was trying to keep warm—Mingyu didn't know.

 

 

"Always here for negotiating, Junhui. You know I couldn't miss your face." Seungcheol replied calmly yet Mingyu still noticed his sarcasm.

 

 

Junhui shot a hand to his chest where his heart was. "Ohh, do you want some of this, Seungcheol? I didn't know you were into guys," he giggled. "You know that's not allowed, I'm not on your team," he tutted and tilted his head. It was a good job it wasn't one of the others from Junhui's gang that had joked around otherwise Seungcheol would've made sure they treated him with  _a lot_  more respect.

 

 

Seungcheol scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fuck off, Moon. I'm not into Chinese."

 

 

Mingyu giggled at Seungcheol and looked back to Junhui who raised his brows.

 

 

"Oh, so you do like guys? What're you into then?" He teased and leaned forward, folding his arms on the handlebars of his bike. Secretly, Mingyu was just as intrigued as Junhui seemed.

 

 

"Does this look like fucking Tinder to you?" Seungcheol snapped, causing Soonyoung to laugh. Jeonghan looked like he was about to fire back with another taunting comment until Chan yelled out with joy as he pulled more stunts with his bike. Mingyu raised his brows. What the fuck did Junhui do to that boy's bike? Or was he just doped up?

 

 

"For fuck's sake, Chan that's enough!" Junhui yelled through his hands, ordering Chan to cut the tricks. 

 

 

"Looks like your toddler's happy playing with his toy," Soonyoung perked up and gestured his head to Chan who had slowed down now and was rolling his bike into the space between Hansol and Jisoo. Now no one was forced to yell.

 

 

"Oh, you know," Junhui looked across to Chan then back to Soonyoung. "Fixed him a couple of upgrades since the guy I usually went to see has lost his magic touch. This place is a giant fucking playground for Chan."

 

 

Nevertheless, all the fun and games suddenly stopped when something else made its way down the ramp.

 

 

Mingyu knew who it was so he hadn't needed didn't look back. The Rockets were here. Mingyu exhaled quietly and watched the group of leather jackets and heavy boots (that could've probably been used as a weapon) pull up to face Mingyu's line.

 

 

It was almost a completed square if only there was one more gang to fill the space to the right. Then again, Mingyu would've rather not had  _more_  bikers up his ass. Well, not literally, of course.

 

 

Mingyu looked across to Seungkwan once more. The younger loured at Wonwoo and his boys like he was burning holes into them. Knowing Seungkwan he probably thought he could've if he stared hard enough.

 

 

Like always, the three leaders met in the middle begin discussing. Mingyu watched intently. Seungcheol's body language seemed bold as usual, well from the back at least, yet somebody's flitting gaze kept distracting Mingyu. He shifted his focus over Seungcheol's shoulder to Wonwoo. Clearly, he was talking to Seungcheol but that didn't stop the man from letting his strong, feline eyes jump between the man in front of him and Mingyu.

 

 

Mingyu furrowed his brows and looked down to Seungkwan again.

 

 

This time, Seungkwan was actually returning Mingyu's attention. An angry expression darkened his normally bright features as he carefully mouthed what Mingyu guessed was, 'What's his problem?!'

 

 

Mingyu shrugged his shoulders.

_BANG!_

 

 

What had brought Mingyu to jump and shoot his gaze back to the middle was Wonwoo who had fired a bullet upwards. The ceiling crumbled over the three heads in the centre, dust floating down.

 

 

"Who is it?!" Wonwoo yelled. "You know what I'm talking about so the best thing to do would just be to own up now."

 

 

What was he talking about? It seemed like nobody else knew either as not one person replied.

 

 

Wonwoo stormed over to Soonyoung and Mingyu heard the click of his gun. He held his breath as he watched Wonwoo raise the gun to Soonyoung and his finger carefully slide onto the trigger.

 

 

"Was it you? I heard you're always playing tricks on people-"

 

 

Seungcheol rushed over in protest and placed his hand over Wonwoo's and pushed it down so the gun pointed to the ground instead of Soonyoung who smiled with disbelief. In what seemed to be utter confusion, Seungcheol raised his voice, "The fuck's wrong with you?! My boys wouldn't do some stupid shit like that; you know we respect people's line of business." He let go of Wonwoo.

 

 

Mingyu wondered about what had been brought up between the three for Wonwoo to lash out like that.

 

 

Adrenaline had started to pump through his body and his heart felt like he'd just sniffed a long, long line of cocaine. He was only concerned because it was Wonwoo who had a gun out. If it had been any other man here, Mingyu knew the chance of them actually using it wouldn't have been as high as Wonwoo's. 

 

 

He was relentless.

 

 

"Don't even think about pointing that thing this way," Junhui strongly warned as Wonwoo had spun back around to walk back to the middle.

 

 

Mingyu heard Soonyoung murmur beside him, "If this is something to do with his barber shop, I'm not surprised. The place is bullshit..."

 

 

Mingyu smiled at his comment. Only Soonyoung could make a joke five seconds after having a loaded gun pointed at him.

 

 

"Are you sure it wasn't one of yours, Seungcheol? We all know Mingyu can't be trusted," Junhui snarled and looked to Mingyu who clenched his fists. If it wasn't for the pain he was still in, he would've jumped off his bike and went straight for Junhui.

 

 

Seungcheol fought back, "What has Mingyu done? Chan's the crazy bitch who beat him! He probably did this too." 

 

 

Mingyu was dying to know what had happened.

 

 

Junhui stalked closer to Seungcheol and scoffed, "What has Mingyu done? He trespassed, Seungcheol, you know that."

 

 

Silently Mingyu watched, praying for Junhui not to mention the truth to Seungcheol. He'd only just gotten off the hook with the lie he'd told him, he couldn't imagine what'd happen if the truth was revealed.

 

 

"He made a wrong turn, give the kid a break," Seungcheol spat.

 

 

Mingyu dipped his head.

 

 

"Wrong turn? Mingyu didn't tell you, did he?" Junhui paused. " He was  _racing_  one of Wonwoo's guys on  _my_ turf, Choi. That's why Chan fucked him up. Make sense now?"

 

 

Mingyu clenched his jaw, his heartbeat increasing.

 

 

Seungcheol's voice sounded completely betrayed, it brought so much pain to Mingyu's chest. "What the fuck, Mingyu?!" He could feel Seungcheol's heated gaze on him yet he couldn't return it.

 

 

Instead of doing the better thing which would've been to remain calm and collected, he threw himself off his bike, which initiated other members around to begin to yell.

 

 

He had to do it.

 

 

Completely blinded by a vision of red, Mingyu rushed to Junhui and attempted to throw a punch yet there seemed to be a barrier and instead.

 

 

He only hit the air. 

 

 

Seungcheol had slid between the two and Mingyu felt a pair of strong hands on his shoulders shove him. He stumbled back till his lower back hit his bike. Breathing heavily, he looked at Seungcheol as if to ask why he had stopped him.

 

 

Seungcheol was close and he stared straight into Mingyu's eyes with perhaps the most menacing look that Mingyu had ever witnessed in all his four years of knowing him.

 

 

The older's breath was laced with the scent of smoke and fury when it hit Mingyu's face. He spoke at a volume where only Mingyu could've heard him. "Sit your ass back down and shut the fuck up," he commanded. Mingyu followed his orders like a trained puppy.

 

 

"Sometimes the truth hurts, doesn't it?" Junhui shrugged his shoulders, his tone was relaxed. "I didn't wanna start anything, I simply thought you should've known what actually happened, Seungcheol. What you do with that information now has nothing to do with me."

 

 

Mingyu's nails dug into his palms as he sat back down on his bike. 

 

 

"So, who was the Rocket bitch who raced him? I don't see any of their faces bruised from Chan," Seungcheol asked, pointing to Wonwoo's gang. Finally, Minghao was going to be punished for what he'd done too.

 

 

Nobody from the line replied. Though somebody from the centre did... Wonwoo.

 

 

"It was me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting H E A T E D. Are y'all coping?  
> Also thinking about writing a seventeen short story to post on Halloween, shall we?


	6. Deja Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I'm fucking straight' - Kwon Soonyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!! I hope you haven't given up on us :')

  
  
  
**—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Yongsan Gu_**

"Geonbae!"  
  
  
  
  
  


Seokmin cheered loudly, encouraging the others to repeat. Minghao raised his shot glass over the table and clinked it against the others in the middle, soju spilling onto his fingers. Along with the others, he threw his head back and let the transparent liquid slip down his throat and bring warmth to his stomach. Even though he'd consumed a fair amount of alcohol last night, he couldn't refuse a drink at a soju bar.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Aaah," Jeonghan exhaled heavily with delight after swallowing the shot. "It's been a while since I've been to a place like this." Minghao too. It had been Seokmin's idea to book a room here. It was nice to be somewhere quiet and laid-back where they could talk for once.   
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao felt almost relaxed here. The private booth was lit above with dim lights, though they weren't too dark to the point where Minghao couldn't see what he was looking at on the table. It was a fairly bland room—four, light grey walls to make it up, a regular sized table in the middle with mahogany brown fixed sofas on each side. Quietly eased into the room seemed to be some pop music, acting as a background noise over the conversations.  
  
  
  
  
  


"As long as you don't leave wasted and clinging to the walls because we still have to ride home, remember?" Jihoon said and Jeonghan waved him off.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yeah, yeah." He grabbed a pair of steel chopsticks and picked from the small bowl of lettuce.  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao smirked; Jeonghan enjoyed his alcohol so he'd liked to see how he was going to hold back tonight.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Look, we aren't here to drink until we can't walk anyway. It's just to talk," Wonwoo stated strongly.  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao exhaled audibly and let his back hit the seat. He shot a look across the table to Wonwoo and snarled, "To talk about what the fuck just happened? Because I sure have a lot to say." He didn't even try to hide the annoyance in his tone. In fact, he wanted Wonwoo to hear it.  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao still didn't know what to feel towards Wonwoo about what had happened at the meetup. Should he be thankful or offended? Throughout the night, had been preparing himself to speak up about his race with Mingyu and for an uproar to arise yet none of the two had happened and quite frankly, that pissed him off. He'd stressed over nothing.  
  
  
  
  
  


Wonwoo began to splutter from across the table to Minghao, "Look, about that, let me explain." Next to Wonwoo was Jihoon who was silently picking from the food. Minghao stayed silent too, letting Wonwoo carry on, "I was doing it to protect you. You know Junhui wouldn't have dared to harm me and he didn't. When it comes down to it, Junhui wants the least blood spilt out of us all, he even knows that himself."  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao rested his elbow on the table to run his long index finger along the rim of his glass. "I can take a beating, hyung. I have many times before," he bit back, his voice low.   
  
  
  
  
  


Yes, he was thankful Wonwoo had stepped in for him but Minghao wasn't one to lie. Just like the men around him, he had done a lot of bad things in his life so far however lying was one thing he always tried his best to avoid. Plus, he believed that people should always get what they deserved and in Minghao's eyes, he most definitely deserved to be punished by Junhui; he broke the rules, crossing into his turf even if he hadn't meant to.  
  
  
  
  
  


"We both know that taking the race into Junhui's territory wasn't what we had planned and yet Mingyu and I both got caught up in beating each other and did just that. I broke the rules, Wonwoo, just to make sure I'd win. You should've let me own up there and then," Minghao said, glaring at Wonwoo.  
  
  
  
  
  


Wonwoo sighed heavily and Minghao heard his foot begin to tap rapidly under the table.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hey, it's over now and nobody is hurt," Jeonghan's gentle voice from beside Minghao broke the tension. "Let's just be grateful tonight wasn't as bad as meetings in the past, yeah?"  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao was grateful for Jeonghan—sometimes he could act like a total psycho but there were other times when he'd be the one to save the group from a dispute, almost like a mother.  
  
  
  
  
  


He nodded in agreement with Jeonghan; he had witnessed  _and_  experienced much worse than what he'd seen tonight.  
  
  
  
  
  


"You can't say that, Jeonghan. I bet you're disappointed Seungcheol didn't yell at you this time. You seem to enjoy it when he does," Seokmin giggled at the end of the table, his shoulder bouncing up and down.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Pfft, that was just an excuse for him to talk to me," Jeonghan sassed back, running a hand through his copper brown hair.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Are you sure? You were really pissing him off with all that teasing," Wonwoo raised his brows questionably.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I wasn't going to pass the opportunity to ask him what he was staring at when he kept eyeing me up." Jeonghan shrugged and leaned over the table to grab a soju bottle. "I wouldn't mind if he yelled at me again, to be honest..." he mumbled as he refilled his glass with one hand.  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao chuckled and patted Jeonghan's back. "Somebody caught the attention from the Boss."  
  
  
  
  
  


Jeonghan rolled his eyes at Minghao with a playful smile.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Seungcheol's always had his eyes on pretty angel boy over there, what's new," Jihoon pointed out, earning a hiss from Jeonghan.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Fuck off, dwarf."  
  
  
  
  
  


"YAH! Don't make me climb over this table and punch you!" Jihoon raised his voice and balled his fist to Jeonghan, only causing Jeonghan to laugh more.  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao laughed and fidgeted in his spot as the conversation carried on. He felt something in the pocket of his leather jacket. Curious, he slid his hand in and picked out what Mingyu had only just managed to pass on without eyes on them after the meetup. He'd totally forgotten to tell Wonwoo about it.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hyung," he said, throwing it onto the table. It slid across to Wonwoo who quickly picked it up to examine it. Minghao guessed from the amount of green in the bag that it wasn't as much as he'd asked for from Mingyu but that was Wonwoo's decision to make.  
  
  
  
  
  


As the rest of the group chatted, Minghao watched Wonwoo as he lifted the packet to the light and squinted his eyes. "He's a little short, but..." He stuffed it in his own pocket. "I'll let him off this time."  
  
  
  
  
  


"This time? So you're gonna keep going?" Minghao asked. He folded his arms and tilted his head slightly. After he'd noticed Mingyu gave him less than he'd wanted, he thought that Wonwoo would've scrapped this idea and moved on but apparently not.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Sure. I like how this is going. If we carry on demanding from Mingyu and he continues to deliver, we can use this against him when the time comes to ask how he's getting this shit; I know he wouldn't want Seungcheol to find out what he's doing so he'll have to tell us."  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao knew exactly why they were doing this. Just like his deals with China, it was all to expand their drug trade, get more cash. He knew that if they could take over the King Rider's business, that would build their own and potentially ruin theirs.   
  
  
  
  
  


"And what're we gonna do about the rumours? Do you have any idea from tonight who it could be?" Seokmin joined their conversation.  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao's jaw tensed. He was still vexed with that whole situation. The hearsay had cost his dignity. After hearing what had been said about him, he was completely stricken with embarrassment. People coming in for his tattoos had started to seem warier as if they were actually waiting for Minghao to demand they hand over their valuables to him, or to catch him out using an unclean needle like the gossip had told them.  
  
  
  
  
  


Of course, these rumours weren't true but still, Minghao couldn't help but take the blame for the loss the shop had recently.  
  
  
  
  
  


Waiting for an answer to Seokmin's question, he looked to Wonwoo who uttered, "Sun Jisoo. It's gotta be him."  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao raised his brows; he wasn't expecting Wonwoo to say a Neon Boy, nor a King Rider, for that matter. Though somehow, it began to make sense to him.  
  
  
  
  
  


"He didn't seem phased at all when I questioned him... I don't like it," Wonwoo trailed off.  
  
  
  
  
  


Earlier at the meetup when Wonwoo had tried to force an answer out of Jisoo, even Minghao had noticed his calm demeanour despite Wonwoo's aggressive interrogation. Or perhaps there had been fear in his eyes and Minghao was simply too far away to notice.  
  
  
  
  
  


"You're just pissed you can't scare somebody for once," Jeonghan blurted out with his loud voice through a mouthful of fried chicken and a smile. Minghao snorted; he wasn't wrong. Jeonghan continued after gulping down his mouthful, "Kwon Soonyoung, I think this is his work." He put his elbow on the table and pointed his chopsticks to Wonwoo.  
  
  
  
  
  


"You think so?" Wonwoo asked.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yeah! You even said yourself he's always pulling fucking pranks on others, maybe he did this for a joke too..." Jeonghan leaned back again. Minghao narrowed his eyes, he found both theories possible yet he couldn't decide which one he- "OH! Or maybe it's Mingyu!" Jeonghan burst out and shot forward again.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I'm going with Jeonghan on this one, hyung. Maybe Mingyu wants revenge since we've already harassed him so much," Seokmin suggested bringing Wonwoo to huff and puff.  
  
  
  
  
  


"It won't be Mingyu. No, I don't think he's one to seek revenge in people. He's always seemed pretty considerate," Wonwoo defended his point. From his tone, he seemed eager to bring his men to agree, and it worked on Minghao.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Wonwoo's right," Minghao said. Disagreeing with Wonwoo was never a good idea. "It could be Sun Jisoo." He leaned forward again to refill his glass.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Come with me, Minghao," Wonwoo said, grabbing Minghao's attention. He put the soju bottle back down, asking Wonwoo where he wanted him to go to and Wonwoo replied quickly, "To the arcade. Junhui's."  
  
  
  
  
  


Jihoon slammed his glass on the table and Minghao's head instantly shot to his direction. "What?! Why would you-"  
  
  
  
  
  


"You think it's Jisoo, don't you? So why don't we go see for ourselves?" Wonwoo cut over Jihoon, keeping his eyes on Minghao.  
  
  
  
  
  


"What, you want to ask Jisoo face to face if he's the rat in front of Junhui? Have you forgotten that you did that tonight and it didn't fucking work, Wonwoo? How is going to Junhui's place gonna heighten the chances he'll own up? If anything it'll stop him from doing so." Jihoon's sharp words shot from his lips at lightning speed and Minghao watched his expression grow madder. Jihoon was frightening when he didn't like how something was going. Sometimes even scarier than Wonwoo.  
  
  
  
  
  


After a few seconds of silence, Wonwoo replied calmly and quietly, "No, actually. That's not what I had planned."   
  
  
  
  
  


"What the fuck are you planning, then?" Jihoon asked. He was the only man who would've been allowed to speak to Wonwoo with that tone and get away with it.  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao sucked in his bottom lip and chewed at the thought of going to the arcade, surrounded by enemies, with Wonwoo, a ticking time bomb.  
  
  
  
  
  


"We call Junhui up, tell him we wanna talk business. I'll say I only want a casual meeting at his arcade. All we have to do is get Jisoo on his own. I bring out a gun and he'll quickly give in," Wonwoo clarified and Minghao threw another shot down. Seokmin asked what'd happen if it wasn't Jisoo and Wonwoo shrugged. "Then at least we showed him what would happen if he ever fucks with us."  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao liked where Wonwoo was going. Though there was one thing that still confused him. "Why are you asking me? Shouldn't Jihoon go since he's second in command?  
  
  
  
  
  


"I need Jihoon to be working for me," Wonwoo replied before taking a drink. "And anyway, I know Junhui has a soft spot for you, Minghao, he should relax more if you're around."  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao looked down at the table, dipping his head. He hadn't noticed that about Junhui before. He licked his lips before lifting his head to look at Wonwoo. "I'll do it, hyung. If you really need me to." He'd only been to Moon Arcade once before so he was intrigued to go again.   
  
  
  
  
  


Wonwoo's slightly lips curled upwards. "Good. I knew you would. We'll talk about it more another time, yeah?"  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao nodded.   
  
  
  
  
  


"Look, we better catch this rat soon before it starts chewing at the fucking wires," Jihoon growled. That was certainly something that worried Minghao: if they left this too long, what would happen? Would it break the group?  
  
  
  
  
  


Minghao looked to Wonwoo. He seemed as relaxed as ever despite the group complaining. "Be patient... the rat poison is ready now."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 **—**   ** _May -- Seoul -- Gangnam Gu_**   ** _\-- Diamond Edge_**

Decisiveness. It was a trait that every leader must've possessed whether they lead the fucking mafia or a damn book club. Underlings looked to the leader for answers and instructions—it was vital they were never off their game.  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol was a master whenever it came to making decisions. Almost always, he could've made a choice and they wouldn't have been wrong or bad. It was something he took pride in.  
  
  
  
  
  


Even so, tonight, he was off his game.  
  
  
  
  
  


To feel ashamed would've been an understatement; he was positively enraged with himself.  
  
  
  
  
  


Back and forth, back and forth, Seungcheol paced around his office, thumb and forefinger fixated on playing with his thick bottom lip as he thought hard. His incessant footsteps were cushioned by the dark grey carpeting beneath and that was where he kept his eyes—on the ground.  
  
  
  
  
  


Even when Soonyoung had spoken, "Hyung..."  
  
  
  
  
  


He hadn't replied.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hyung?"  
  
  
  
  
  


And he hadn't stopped pacing.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Seungcheol!" The abrupt increase in Soonyoung's volume had forced Seungcheol to snap his head up and pause. Soonyoung was (bravely) lounging in Seungcheol's office chair with his legs dauntlessly kicked up onto his desk. He hadn't known how he'd let him laze around like that since that furniture had probably cost more than just a few thousand won.   
  
  
  
  
  


"How long does it take, man?" He asked as he took his legs off the table and sat forward on the crimson, leather chair. "All you have to do is  _think_  about kicking him out but then you realise, oh! We can't fucking survive without him! And  _then_  you choose to keep him. Easy peasy." He shrugged and leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head.  
  
  
  
  
  


"It's not easy-fucking-peasy because I don't actually know if it's safe to keep him, Soonyoung," Seungcheol snapped. He dipped his head again and pinched between his furrowed brows. "And don't put your dirty shoes on my desk again!" He growled as he'd sauntered his way over to his desk and swiped a cigarette from the silver case that sat there with its lid open. As he'd held it between his lips with his fingers, Seungcheol leaned over the desk for Soonyoung to light the cigarette up with his lighter. He stood straight again and deeply inhaled the fumes, letting them creep into his lungs and settle before he exhaled. As the swirling smoke diffused into the air, Seungcheol watched, letting the stress fade along with it.  
  
  
  
  
  


"You know the right decision, hyung," Soonyoung mumbled quietly, flipping the lid shut on his lighter.  
  
  
  
  
  


Without a reply, Seungcheol slid his behind onto the hard surface of the desk, his black trousers brushing against the wood. He eyed the scattered paperwork beside his thigh and frowned. He knew what they were about—Diamond Edge, his lounge and bar. To have run a place like this as well as a gang was certainly far from easy for anybody including Seungcheol.  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn't touch it; there were more important things to be done tonight.  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol sighed quietly and slid his hand, that wasn't holding the cigarette, through the gap in his dress shirt and onto his bare chest. When he'd arrived back after the meetup earlier, Seungcheol had thrown his blazer and tie off as soon as he'd gotten into his office and even unbuttoned a few more buttons on his white shirt. He knew tonight was going to be long so why not get comfortable?  
  
  
  
  
  


His hand ran slowly across the soft skin of his hard chest as he'd let his thoughts run.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Tell me why we should keep him," Seungcheol demanded Soonyoung with his back to him. As he waited for his voice from behind him, he took another breath from his cigarette.  
  
  
  
  
  


"The question is why shouldn't we keep him? Yeah he broke the rules but he's the fucking soldier in this group—his temper and strong build are why he's basically our enforcer. We need him. Especially these days. With tension rising we need all the power we can get."  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol agreed with everything Soonyoung had said. There was only one thing that was holding him back from keeping him.  
  
  
  
  
  


"If I do keep him, Soonyoung..." Seungcheol twisted his body to look at the latter. "It won't look good. I know you're aware of that. The others, Wonwoo and Junhui, they'll think I'm a soft bitch for letting the kid off when everyone knows if we're going by the rules, he should be gone."  
  
  
  
  
  


"Fuck them!" Soonyoung shouted and shot up onto his feet so fast that the chair scooted back a little on the carpet. "You prove them wrong by, I don't know, setting an example, or something!"  
  
  
  


"Setting an example...?"  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yeah! Show 'em who's boss." Soonyoung winked and flashed a mischievous smile.  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol's hand switched from his chest to the back of his neck and he rubbed for a few seconds. He didn't like how he'd been here for a few hours now and was still unable to stick to a choice. It was something he  _rarely_  struggled with.  
  
  
  
  
  


"This is Kim Mingyu we're talking about, the main reason this gang is still smiling. He's our little brother. Just Imagine how weak we'd be without him and how weak he'd be without us." Soonyoung's voice was full of determination and honesty. "You've known Mingyu much longer than Seungkwan and I have, Seungcheol but I know how much you've looked out for him. He's told me he looks up to you, admires your hard work and strength. Do you really want to kick somebody like that out of your life because of a few mistakes?"  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol hadn't known what to say back to Soonyoung; his argument was very much valid.  
  
  
  
  
  


However, he knew what he had to do. He didn't like it... but it was the only option he could've thought of.  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol slipped off the desk. He'd taken one final drag from the cigarette before he'd walked around to pass it to Soonyoung who accepted it confusedly.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Where are you going?" Soonyoung asked as Seungcheol began to stride out of the office.  
  
  
  
  
  


He looked over his shoulder and called, "To make my decision." Then carried on walking down the dim hallway until he'd made his way into the bar.  
  
  
  
  
  


It hadn't been a surprise to him that the joint was still packed and noisy with the loud conversation of sharply dressed men and barely dressed waitresses along with the slow tunes of the jazz. Every chair, booth or stool was taken and people had resorted to standing around, leaning against walls or sitting on tabletops.  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol craned his neck up to search for Mingyu. If he was standing, Seungcheol could've found him in seconds; the kid was a fucking skyscraper and  _still_  growing. (Something he envied of the man). Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Mingyu was on his feet. Seungcheol cursed under his breath and looked around, feeling a few pairs of eyes on himself.  
  
  
  
  
  


He tried to remember which direction Mingyu had taken when they'd come back from the meetup. Mingyu had stayed completely silent afterwards though Seungcheol recalled the younger had sulked off to the bar, most likely so he could've drunk his worries away.  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol fixed his eyes onto the bar where he'd found the familiar head of chestnut hair he'd been searching for. As he rolled up his sleeves, he stormed to Mingyu who was slumped on the barstool, glass in hand and chatting to a guy. Luckily, there was a fair amount of people around as he'd gotten closer.  
  
  
  
  
  


Even before he'd done it, Seungcheol already felt the guilt that plagued his chest. He repeated the words in his head,  _'It has to be done, it has to be done'_.  
  
  
  
  
  


Mingyu hadn't suspected a thing until Seungcheol had called out his name. The younger span around slowly on his stool and flashed those large, clueless eyes.  
  
  
  
  
  


With all eyes on him, he tightly balled his fist and swung his arm with force. Quicker than Mingyu could've realised what was going on, Seungcheol's knuckles had made contact with his cheekbone. Yells of surprise and excitement filled the room and caught the attention of others on the other side as Mingyu tumbled off the stool, his drink going with him. The glass smashed onto the ground, alcohol escaping and running along the wooden floor.  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol hadn't wanted to cause such a commotion, he realised how embarrassed he would've made Mingyu feel from this but it was for the best.  
  
  
  
  
  


Mingyu stayed kneeling on the ground, looking up at Seungcheol with an angry expression and a bloody cheekbone. Seungcheol couldn't help himself but mouth an apology to Mingyu.  
  
  
  
  
  


Because he wanted to cause the least pain as possible for Mingyu, remembering what Chan had done to his ribs, he chose not to kick them. Alternatively, he threw another punch to the nose this time, yet he made sure it wasn't hard enough to break it.  
  
  
  
  
  


With every punch, he knew this was more of an iniquity on Mingyu's side but then again, it was all to help him. The kid had been through a rough time this past month, clearly, and Seungcheol felt awful for doing this.  
  
  
  
  
  


He stood up straight, gesturing to Mingyu who was dripping with blood, and yelled over the voices, "If Wonwoo or Junhui run their mouths just tell them what you've seen!"  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol glared at the men in the room and some of them nodded. They didn't look too surprised. Probably because they were used to witnessing so much commotion at this place.   
  
  
  
  
  


He grabbed Mingyu by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Mingyu struggled to stay upright and he looked to Seungcheol with dark eyes, nose bleeding.  
  
  
  
  
  


"And clean this shit up!"   
  
  


To avoid questions, Seungcheol dragged Mingyu through the room and back down the hallway. He met Soonyoung there, who Seungcheol guessed, had watched the whole thing since he began attacking him with questions. The few men that lingered there quickly brought their attention to the two yet Seungcheol purposely pretended like he hadn't heard their enquiries too as he'd opened the office door again and shoved Mingyu in.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Love you too, hyung!" Mingyu spat as he threw himself onto the armchair that sat across the room. Once Soonyoung was in, Seungcheol closed the door and looked back to Mingyu. The boy had his head tilted back with tissues held to his nose from the box on the coffee table in front of him.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Listen, I have my reasons," Seungcheol said and took the other armchair that was placed on the other side of the circle table. In the corner of his eye, he saw Soonyoung who had sat back in Seungcheol's desk chair again, luckily his feet weren't on the desk this time because Seungcheol was not ready to throw any more punches.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Jesus, Seungcheol. I wasn't expecting that!" Soonyoung remarked, "Are you okay, Mingyu?"  
  
  
  
  
  


Mingyu scoffed and replied in a sarcastic manner, "Oh, I'm perfect." He gestured to the bloody tissue that he kept on his nose.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Look, it was either this or I force you out of the gang. I'm pretty sure you would've picked a punch in the nose over that, hm?" Seungcheol leaned back and crossed one leg over his knee. The red on his knuckled had caught his eye and he glanced down to examine them. He huffed; it wasn't the most pleasant thing to see—his friend's blood on his hands.  
  
  
  
  
  


Mingyu clicked his tongue. Seungcheol had guessed prior that Mingyu wouldn't have been completely thankful to him for this but deep down he knew he agreed it was the best option out of the two.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I went as soft as I could on you! You should be grateful." Seungcheol raised how brows and looked back up to Mingyu.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Did you really have to do this for keeping me?" Mingyu questioned as he'd brought his head back down so he was no longer looking down at Seungcheol. He removed the tissue from his nose. Seungcheol noticed there were a little swelling and a cut on the bridge but thank God it wasn't broken.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I couldn't just hand you a fucking lollipop and tell you I forgive you could I? I think you forget I have a lot of eyes on me, Mingyu. I had to prove somehow that I don't take to rule breaking otherwise Wonwoo and Junhui would start walking all over us."  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung laughed, "They'll never walk all over us."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 **—**   ** _June -- Seoul -- Jungnang Gu_**   ** _\--_**

"This is bad..." Chan had mumbled between kisses yet Soonyoung carried on, letting them grow deeper and deeper each time. It was a surprise to Soonyoung that he was still able to hear Chan's voice over the thunderous bass from the music somebody had blasting from their car. Not to forget the shrieking car tires against the rough concrete and the pleased cheers from the young men watching.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Stop worrying," Soonyoung whispered and pulled the smaller one closer. "I can't believe you walked here," he said and his lips curved upwards as he'd felt Chan's lips smile against his own.  
  
  
  
  
  


"It isn't that far. Anyway, I told my hyungs I was going to the store so I think it'd be suspicious if I got on my bike to go around the corner." Chan's voice was breathy and soft on Soonyoung's lips and he smirked.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Smartass." Soonyoung patted Chan's behind earning nothing but an embarrassed smile from the younger.  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung knew this wasn't the safest of ideas: visiting a car meet-up that was being held on Junhui's turf. Even though he stuck to his motorbike, Soonyoung was still a big fan for street racing. He usually attended the casual events to watch the drivers flash their pricey cars and show their skill.  
  
  
  
  
  


This particular meet-up was, for now, held behind a large convenience store that was closed for the night. The parking lot was spacious and completely empty. So inviting for street racers to take their cars for a spin in. Soonyoung had parked his bike against the wall of the store; it was still best to stay as hidden as possible just in case somebody who knew Chan or himself was also here which was something very possible. Nevertheless, tonight was fairly busy so the two almost disappeared at the back, in the shadows and behind the cars. The vehicles had parked themselves into a large circle in order for one or two cars to come into the centre and drift or boast about their other tricks to everybody else. Meet-ups like these weren't usually about competition, most people were just here to have fun.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Why did you wanna come here anyway? Is there somebody you wanna see?" Chan asked, staring up into Soonyoung's eyes which caused his heart to skip. Soonyoung loved Chan's eyes—they were small and angular like his own yet Chan's seemed much warmer. They always held a glisten in them that reminded Soonyoung of a moonlit river where the dark water would ripple and sparkle under the magical gleam.  
  
  
  
  
  


He stuttered, "I-uh... there's no one here. I wanted to see you. I haven't seen you since the meetup and that was two weeks ago." Soonyoung was concerned for how much of a liking he had begun to take for Chan. It was already dangerous as it was yet he could tell the feelings were growing. It was scary yet so exciting.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Really?!" Chan squeaked and his eyes lit up. Soonyoung found it so cute. He elevated to his toes, no longer having to tilt his head up slightly to look at Soonyoung. The headlights from the cars illuminated Chan's young features, bringing his porcelain skin to glow outstandingly.  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung nodded. "Plus, I heard tonight was going to be good." He shrugged his shoulders that Chan had his small hands rested on. He raised his brows and smirked.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Ever since we've arrived you've had me up against this wall, hyung."  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung felt his cheeks warm and he stepped back, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. It was hard to control himself around Chan when he looked like that.   
  
  
  
  
  


Spinning around, he eyed through the gaps between the cars to see the fun that took place in the middle. He felt the brush of Chan's arm against his own as he'd grown closer. It felt as though sparks had just flown across from the two; every time they touched it was a new feeling like an adventure.  
  
  
  
  
  


Currently, as Soonyoung weaved through the vehicles and people to get a better view, a black Toyota Supra was in the middle of drifting. Even just watching the car whirl around in the centre and create black trails behind it wherever it spun was enough for Soonyoung's veins to race with adrenaline.  
  
  
  
  
  


As the cheers increased and the tires kept on screaming, Soonyoung found himself yelling over the commotion, "I've seen this guy a few times. He's always the best at drifting." His lips only just brushed against Chan's soft ear as he'd spoken, "Cops always show up wherever he goes, though."  
  
  
  
  
  


"Then let's hope they don't tonight; I'm too young to go to prison," Chan joked and Soonyoung glanced to the younger who had a huge smile that glowed on his face. Amused, he giggled and gently slapped his hand on Chan's arm.  
  
  
  
  
  


Whilst the Supra carried on, Soonyoung examined the area to notice a few of the faces seemed familiar to him. They were guys he'd spoken to at other meet-ups or spotted regularly. Most of the street racers here were fairly young, perhaps even college students, all impulsive and hungry for a thrill and most likely to spend their newest paycheck on fixtures for their precious cars.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Soonyoung-ah!" A familiar, deep voice called out over the noise. Soonyoung's eyes searched for who had shouted for him until he spotted a young man with vibrant purple hair rush over. He was tall, much taller than Soonyoung or Chan. Perhaps even taller than Mingyu. The long, black overcoat that stopped just beneath his kneecaps added to his high and slender build and most definitely told anybody that he had more than enough cash to spare.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Kento!" Soonyoung smiled and made his way to pat the man on the arm and greet him.  
  
  
  
  
  


When he spoke, Kento's low voice was thick with his Japanese accent that Soonyoung secretly adored, "Didn't think I'd see you here. Isn't this-uh... Junhui's area?" Kento was good to Soonyoung. Arguably he was the main ringleader or organiser for these street events, along with the illegal street racing in Seoul. Everybody on the scene knew who Kento was and the talent he held behind the wheel, including Soonyoung.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yeah, it is. I'm trying to keep on the low but I heard tonight was gonna be pretty tight so I had to come." Soonyoung's smile was so big that he could barely see out of his eyes. He looked up to Kento (both literally and figuratively) for his charisma and success at only twenty-five and he couldn't help but beam at him.  
  
  
  
  
  


"You've always had a spark in you for racing. I like it." Kento smiled back as he looked down. "I was surprised you never followed that dream."   
  
  
  
  
  


"You wanted to street race?" Chan asked. He looked shocked to be hearing such new information. Despite the fact that the two had already been quite active recently, they never really talked about the past, it was more about living in the present or worrying for the future.  
  
  
  
  
  


"At one point but things happened. I met Seungcheol and life took a different turn... To motorbikes," Soonyoung answered averting his focus from Kento for the first time since he'd arrived.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hey, you should show the guys what you've got! They'll love to see something new here," Kento perked up, snatching Soonyoung's attention again with his encouraging tone.  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung waved the older male off and chuckled nervously, "No, I couldn't do that here. They only care about vehicles with four wheels, not two." He folded his arms over his chest.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Soonyoung, I know the people here and I know they'd love to see you take that baby for a spin," Kento said and gestured to Soonyoung's blue Vespa that rested against the wall.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I can't, Kento. If I wreck that thing, Seungcheol will surely kill me," Soonyoung attempted to justify although he wasn't lying; Seungcheol treated their bikes like a member of the family.  
  
  
  
  
  


"What's up with you?" Kento's strong brows furrowed and he leaned back to give Soonyoung a questioning stare. "Are you too shy in front of your little boyfriend?" His eyes jumped to Chan who's eyes widened.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Boyfriend?" Soonyoung made sure to be extra careful so he didn't stumble over his words, "I'm fucking straight, Kento. Chan's just a friend of mine." He looked to Chan whos eyes were filled with panic. If Kento had seen them earlier, there was as risk others could've too. And one of those could've also been friends with Junhui.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hm, okay." Kento nodded slowly.  
  
  
  
  
  


After a few more minutes, the Supra had finished. Soonyoung clapped his hands with joy and watched the car slowly roll out of the circle. He scanned the area to see who had decided to come up next, it was a red pickup truck with three men in the cargo bed and two inside. He then looked down to his right side to see Chan. He was looking so innocent, eyes wide with adrenaline from watching the vehicles. It was like he was a child as he rested on his tiptoes and tried his best to look over the crowd of people.   
  
  
  
  
  


"These look like trouble," Kento remarked over the cheers.   
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung agreed, they did, however, they also looked like a lot of fun. The three in the back, that looked so young they almost looked like teenagers, were firing up the crowd, clapping their hands and shouting. Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Soonyoung noticed through the open window that the man behind the wheel had already started frantically spinning it. It was certainly thrilling watching the tail of the truck skid dangerously close to the inner edges of the circle as people jumped back with huge smiles.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Shit, these kids are reckless! Imagine these guys in a race," Kento raised his voice and leaned down slightly to get close to Soonyoung's ear for him to hear.  
  
  
  
  
  


"You think they'd win?" Soonyoung asked, his eyes still glued to the truck as it spun, the boys' arms draped over the truck to keep in place.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I think they'd cheat their way through. If they had an actual car I'm guessing it'd be packed with all kinds of dirty secrets and mods," Kento replied.  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung watched as one of the boys in the back pulled out a strange red stick. He hadn't known what it was until it was lit and held up to the night sky. The smoke, tinted red, shot from the stick that hissed and sparkled. Engaged, the people yelled louder and encouraged the group in the middle with words and by clapping their hands. Soonyoung's smile grew as the smoke continued to run from it and around the car is it carried on rotating, almost disappearing in the thick of it. The red glow was so strong, it hit off every face and filled the circle with colour and energy.  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung didn't see anything wrong with it. But then he looked to Kento who muttered, "Fuck, this isn't good." The joy had completely vanished from his tough features and all that was left was the concern.  
  
  
  
  
  


Kento was right; behind the red glow, there was also a blue light that had begun flashing and slowly taking over the fizzing of the stick and the noise of the crowd, a blaring siren grew closer. Soonyoung knew exactly what it was and it seemed like everybody else did too.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Fucking cops, we gotta go!" Kento yelled. "I think the next spot is the empty industrial park up the street. You coming?" He asked Soonyoung who was already racing back to his bike, Chan close on his tail. He looked back to the younger who was laughing.  
  
  
  
  
  


"This is crazy!" He giggled. Without having to ask Chan, he knew what to tell Kento.  
  
  
  
  
  


"We have to get back. But good luck, yeah?" As much as he wanted to spend more time with him, he couldn't let Chan risk being away too long in case his hyungs grew suspicious.  
  
  
  
  
  


Kento nodded his head and waved. "I'll see you around, yeah?" He smiled and spun around to sprint to his own car.  
  
  
  
  
  


They were running out of time before the cops would begin to catch people. Soonyoung hopped onto his bike. He looked to Chan who stood cluelessly and Soonyoung smiled gently, patting the space behind him on his seat.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Come on. It's either this or the back of a police car," he chuckled as Chan quickly sat behind him, hesitantly wrapping his arms around Soonyoung's torso.  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung only had one helmet and he figured Chan deserved it more than him so whilst starting up his bike, he passed the headgear back to Chan, his fingers brushing against his as he'd done so.  
  
  
  
  
  


By the time Soonyoung had begun to make his way out of the uproar, police cars were already blocking others off. Luckily Soonyoung's bike was able to slip through the gaps between the cars that were moving slowly in the traffic that had built up due to the number of people here.  
  
  
  
  
  


Nobody seemed afraid of the police, not one man. In fact, it only seemed to add to the rush.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Shit, there's one here," Chan shouted and pointed to a police car parked beside the exit onto the main road. There were a few officers, one was speaking to one of the street racers and the other two were talking to somebody else. As Soonyoung drove closer, he noticed they seemed... familiar.  
  
  
  
  
  


It was unusual, even for Soonyoung, to see him in something other than his assigned jacket. Here, he was wearing all black. Granted, he only saw the back of his head but his intuition was quickly backed up when Soonyoung drove onto the road where he was able to see the young man's face. A face he never thought he would've seen here.  
  
  
  
  
  


Soonyoung mumbled, "Is that..."   
  
  
  
  
  


Until Chan finished his sentence, "Jisoo hyung!"  
  



	7. Gun and Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (no the title isn't a typo lol)  
> I tried to work quicker on this chapter, I'm so tired lmao.  
> Hope you enjoy :)

  
  
_  
**— June -- S** **eoul -- Seongbuk Gu -- Moon Arcade** _

"Detective, you only have to tell me what's important. I know you mustn't have much time."

 

 

With an old Nokia brick phone pressed to his ear, he closed the toilet lid and sat on top of it after making sure the bathroom door was definitely locked. Just before, he'd checked through every stall just in case there was an employee or one of the boys here but luckily, he was alone.

 

 

"Look, did any of the officers catch the two kids dealing last night? It was far too crowded so I couldn't find them."

 

 

One thing he didn't like about choosing the bathroom was that his voice bounced off every wall which seemingly made it louder, increasing the chance somebody would hear his confidential conversation.

 

 

"We've been told they didn't deal any drugs at all. In fact, the case seemed to be that they simply wanted to see each other. However the older one of the two, Kwon Soonyoung, he was seen chatting to Kento. You remember him, don't you? The Japanese one, he's the instigator type, one of the men you'd looked into months prior. Luckily, the team managed to catch him last night so we'll get to question him about the gangs later on today. Let's just say he didn't enjoy the idea of being arrested."

 

 

"Make sure to tell me anything about the gangs I don't already know. But those two didn't deal? So, they're not up to the same business as Chwe Hansol who goes to-who is it-Boo Seungkwan for drugs?"

 

 

He tried to keep his volume as low as possible that he was almost whispering down the phone. He shuffled on the toilet lid and listened to his work partner's voice, a voice he was so glad to hear since the last time he'd called the police department which was around last month now.

 

 

"Apparently not. Seems like the only thing they're hiding from their gangs is their love for each other. Speaking of Boo Seungkwan, we've heard back from that college kid, Sunwoo.  You know, the boy who'd volunteered to help our team with this operation? He managed to get the clip from the security cameras where he'd dealt with Seungkwan, along with the weed he was given. He's done a pretty good job, I'm surprised a young kid like him was willing to cooperate."

 

 

"Perfect. Is he still going to work there?"

 

 

"We advised him to quit his job and not to keep in contact with Seungkwan, just to stay safe. He can't risk anything even if Seungkwan hasn't been known to resort to violence quicker than others. I'm sure you know that from your research on him."

 

 

"Mhm. Oh, I heard last night, whilst I was out, Wonwoo has contacted Junhui and they're going to talk here sometime. I don't know what about or when. I'll dig up more details today."

 

 

"Just hang in there, okay? You've already given us quite enough evidence to throw these bitches into prison for a long time so just keep up the good work. We'll call you later in the month. And detective Hong? Good luck."

 

 

It'd been a while since he'd been called that. It almost gave him the chills hearing it again.

 

 

Jisoo sighed. He looked at the phone, the tiny, green screen, and stared at the phone number he had just spoken to. The urge to call it again and beg to be taken out of this wasn't strong but it was certainly there and it was bugging him. It was all getting to him now, mentally and physically. He struggled to keep up with the gang and their work that'd leave him exhausted by the end of the day, only to work even harder in the night. Falling asleep was almost impossible for him; the worry and fear that often plagued his mind kept him up, along with the guilt. Oh, the guilt. Jisoo had never felt so much guilt in his entire life and it was killing him. Granted, he had been warned plenty of times during training and preparation that these things, and more, were all things he'd have to face but that didn't take away how hard it was to live with them now.

 

 

Jisoo slid the phone into his back pocket and opened the door, walking to the sinks. He rested his palms on the ceramic edge and pulled his gaze up to the mirror. Ever since his work had begun, Jisoo had never looked the same. Where his eyes were once bright and full of life, all that was left were dull pupils and the bloodshot that crept in from the corners. He traced a finger along his under eyes—they were sunken with exhaustion and stress and same went for his cheeks.

 

 

Jisoo had followed out and successfully completed previous infiltrations but nothing to this extent. For this one, in particular, Jisoo had had to learn to ride a motorbike as well as research on all three gangs along with most of their connections, friends and enemies until he was an expert on every one of their lives. There was no room for mistakes; mistakes raised suspicion, suspicion brought questions to surface and questions demanded answers. Jisoo couldn't truthfully answer those questions; blowing his cover would most likely take his life along with it.

 

 

Splashing the icy cold water onto his face hadn't changed his worn out appearance in the slightest although it did wake him up a little. The morning was still early.

 

 

He dried his hands on his jacket and turned around to leave the bathroom. Another sigh left him as he forced his mind back into his second persona he had been instructed to build especially for this operation: Sun Jisoo. The Jisoo these boys knew him as and had grown to love and  _trust_. Every decision he made from here, every word he spoke, they were all from Sun Jisoo.

 

 

"Jisoo hyung! You took your time in there!" Chan's voice brought Jisoo's heart to jump. The smaller one's expression wasn't all matching up with the tone of his voice—his eyes were slightly narrowed and they looked Jisoo up and down, brows furrowed.

 

 

It made Jisoo uneasy. Had he heard the whole conversation?

 

 

"Ah, morning, Chan." Jisoo smiled and chuckled awkwardly. He scooted to the side to let the young one past. Chan's glare hadn't left Jisoo until he was in the bathroom and the door was closed. That was when Jisoo let out a breath he had been holding in, his shoulders dropping.

 

 

There it was again... that wave of guilt.

 

 

Jisoo liked Chan. He hadn't expected to enjoy any these boys' company when he had started out but several months in, Chan felt like a little brother to Jisoo. He figured the boy probably felt the same for a lot of the people around him. Nineteen. He was still so young. Jisoo couldn't imagine sending the kid to prison. It awakened a doubt in his head that perhaps he shouldn't be doing this. Then again, Chan was a criminal just like the others and Jisoo had a job to do.

 

 

Jisoo slid his hands into the pockets of his maroon trousers and began walking again.

 

 

Junhui's arcade was much more than just a few arcade machines in a small room for kids to run around in. In fact, there were three floors, even a bowling alley on the second one. The railings, the walls, the high ceilings were all dressed in the brightest neon signs and lights, it was almost like the air was tinted the same colour. Jisoo strolled across the room, his white sneakers, that glowed under the lights, sinking into the black carpet. It looked as if Junhui had ripped this flooring straight out of the 1980s; it was patterned with geometric shapes and planets and stars in colours of blues, pinks and purples.

 

 

With his left hand wrapped around the cold, steel bar, Jisoo climbed up the stairs that were centred in the middle of the room so they lined up with the entrance to the building. The place had only just started opening up, so one of the staff must've only just switched on the music for the place because halfway up the staircase, the tunes had begun to fill the place. It was an English song: Tainted Love. Of course, Junhui's '80s Hits' playlist.

 

 

On his way through the second floor, multiple employees passed him and the majority of them seemed fairly young. In fact, when working with the Neon Boys, Jisoo was constantly surrounded by youth most likely because of Junhui's child spirit, he was really a kid at heart, always searching for fun. Perhaps that was why he owned an arcade.

 

 

Jisoo knew this place by heart now. Without having to think, he knew that the second floor held, along with more arcade games and a bowling alley, a diner too. That was where he suspected Junhui would be.

 

 

As he grew nearer, his guess wasn't wrong; Junhui's voice came from the direction of the diner. He was sat on top of one of the white, round tables in the middle of the room, chatting to a waiter who was busy taking the chairs off the tables to set them up for the day. The diner was placed at the very front of the second floor, beside the wall of windows that looked out onto the streets below. No curtains nor blinds blocked the morning shine from bursting into the room and brightening Junhui's playful smile.

 

 

Jisoo waited until he was a few steps away from Junhui before making his presence known.

 

 

"Junhui-" Before another word could've left his lips, he was cut off by the loud ringtone of somebody's phone. Lips parted, he watched Junhui who had hopped off the table to take out his mobile from his back pocket to then answer the call. 

 

 

"Ah, Wonwoo. I was hoping you'd call." The tone of his voice had shifted from when he'd spoken to the waiter. Now it was stronger, pitch almost deeper and words clearer. Usually, he didn't try to mask his Chinese accent, that still crept into his speech sometimes, but once the phone was brought to his ear, he did. Junhui ambled around the room, through the table, fingertips running along the surfaces. Jisoo, with ears alert, stayed where he was, waiting politely.

 

 

"Mhm... yeah," Junhui mumbled. "Tonight?" Jisoo's eyes focused onto Junhui who had stopped pacing mindlessly. "Yeah, we can do it tonight instead, that's fine. It's the weekend meaning we're open twenty-four hours so come anytime after 9 pm with the others, yeah?" He paused again, letting Wonwoo speak. "Oh, just Minghao? Okay then..." His voice grew smaller. "I'll see you tonight. Later, Wonwoo."

 

 

Junhui ended the call, putting his phone away again with a sigh. He ran his hand through his lightly gelled hair. 

 

 

"Morning, again. Is there something you wanted?" He asked as he pranced back to sit on his original spot on the table. With a small smile, he looked to Jisoo. He was always smiling.

 

 

"Twenty-four hours, huh? That's hard work." Jisoo pulled out a chair from under the table Junhui was on. He sat down, crossing one leg over his knee. 

 

 

"That's why I love the weekends: this place never sleeps, it's invigorating." Junhui grinned, his eyes lighting up. Jisoo smiled at Junhui's response.

 

 

"So Wonwoo will be here tonight? What is he here to talk about?" He asked Junhui, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his palm. He looked up at Junhui who's focus was on the view outside as he gently swung his leg back and forth.

 

 

"Ah, it's nothing important, turf and money, stuff like that. Deep down I think he just wants to see how this place is doing; we're still his competition. I heard Check-In isn't doing so well at the moment, maybe he's insecure, I dunno."

 

 

Jisoo's shoulders tensed. "Hm.." He fidgeted in his seat and cleared his throat. "You don't think he has a plan behind this?" He asked, only just stopping himself from stumbling over his words.

 

 

Junhui shook his head and looked down at Jisoo. "A plan? No, I don't think he's going to do anything if that's what you mean. He seemed pretty normal when he'd called me last night."

 

 

"So you trust him?" Jisoo questioned and Junhui nodded again. 

 

 

"I guess so." His feline eyes didn't break contact. 

 

 

"Do you trust me?"

 

 

A chuckle escaped Junhui's lips and he dipped his head. Once he'd stopped giggling and he lifted his head again, his eyes were full of sincerity.

 

 

"What kind of question is that? Of course, I trust you, Jisoo hyung."

**—**   ** _June -- Seoul -- Gangnam Gu -- Diamond Edge_**

These streets were usually fucking mayhem but this afternoon they were complete pandemonium.

 

 

Why was it always him who was sent out as the fucking messenger to speak to Wonwoo's pet

 

 

With his eyes fixed on the red light above, Jeonghan bounced his right leg on the bike pedal as if it would make it switch any quicker (which it certainly didn't). With anticipation, his engine rumbled and his finger's gripped tighter around the handlebars, just desperate to start steering through the streets again. The glimmering skyscrapers and flashy stores that belonged to big-budget brands were only a short-term distraction from the stress of driving on these roads.

 

 

Jeonghan would've liked to say he was fairly patient... in other districts. Of all places, why did the King Riders have to live in one of the largest districts to make up this city? He could've guessed why: probably for Seungcheol to flaunt his wealth. It was expensive enough living in Seoul itself but to have a place in Gangnam-Gu was like living in Beverly Hills.

 

 

Once the red eventually switched to orange, Jeonghan revved the engine. As soon as green struck his eyes, he wasted no time in accelerating forward.

 

 

Diamond Edge wasn't too far now, beating in the heart of Gangnam-gu. The joint was always teeming with people, at least it was whenever Jeongan had been there. Granted, he'd only visited the bar a handful of occasions during his time and the majority of those were on business terms with the rest of the crew. Yet he could see why it was so popular; Seungcheol knew how to run this place.

 

 

It wasn't hard to miss—a tall building, neon lights adorning the front and drawing pedestrians closer, large windows that showcased, or perhaps teased to outsiders, the entertainment everybody inside was enjoying. Though today, Jeonghan wouldn't have seen this; his route was through the back alley.

 

 

It wasn't a tiny alleyway that was dark and dirty, riddled with rubbish and rats because, in fact, it was quite the opposite. Fairly clean and spacious, the daylight had no trouble in filling this spot of the city. Jeonghan wasted no time in parking his bike at his final destination and apparently, somebody else didn't feel like wasting any time either.

 

 

"It's about time. I told Seungcheol I was coming out here for a smoke. It's been forty-five fucking minutes."

 

 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes at the younger and scoffed, "Seungcheol can suck my ass." He stood up from his motorbike and exhaled heavily. Finally, he was able to get this God-awful helmet off that'd most definitely ruined his hair. He balanced it on the seat of his motorbike and spun around to look at the face he'd driven through enemy territory to see, by Wonwoo's orders, of course, but that didn't take away from the fact that this was still breaking the rules.

 

 

There was only one, chipped and worn down, table and chair beside the back door and Mingyu had already occupied it. Jeonghan had never felt intimidated much in his life but when he'd watched Mingyu rise from his chair and stand as tall as he was, his hand, graced in stylised tattoos, brought up to his face as he removed the cigarette from his lips and tossed it onto the ground, killing the thing with the stamp of his shoe, that was certainly daunting. 

 

 

He looked moody, or even angry. 

 

 

And  _yet again_ , his face was littered with bruises and cuts. Jeonghan couldn't make his mind up if that was a sign of weakness or strength. Was this kid ever out of trouble? There were two butterfly strips across the bridge of his nose and his lips were red and puffier. It was almost a rare sight to see Mingyu with a face that didn't look like he'd just left a boxing match. Jeonghan was still amazed to see him alive and breathing sometimes. 

 

 

"It would've been helpful if Wonwoo also told me what time you'd arrive in his text message so I wasn't sitting out here all day. I do have other things to do, you know," Mingyu remarked as he stepped closer to Jeonghan, glaring down on him. He didn't have Jeonghan forcibly pinned to a wall with a sharp object up to his face-unlike previous scenarios-but he was perhaps even more menacing this time. 

 

 

Jeonghan folded his arms over his chest.  "So you're staying, hm? Seungcheol just couldn't let you go."

 

 

Seeing how furious Seungcheol seemed last month when he'd found out about Mingyu, Jeonghan was certain that was the last he would've seen of his face but alas, here he was. Somehow alive.

 

 

"Yeah, Seungcheol's letting me stay. Well, not before he did this," Mingyu replied and pointed to his face.

 

 

"Seems like he did a pretty good job," Jeonghan bantered though he hadn't earned a laugh from Mingyu who scrunched his face and stared at Jeonghan through hooded eyes.

 

 

"What the fuck do you want, Jeonghan," he snarled, evidently not amused.

 

 

Jeonghan dropped the smile from his lips and cleared his throat. He placed his hands on his hips. He didn't know why Wonwoo couldn't have just told Mingyu this through text since he had his number now. By now, Jeonghan had guessed Wonwoo had a little thing for Mingyu. He sometimes wondered if Wonwoo had ever texted Mingyu about something other than drugs but then again, Wonwoo was insanely professional and knew very well how to control himself.

 

 

Jeonghan sighed, "Look, Wonwoo wants to make a deal." Until Mingyu quickly cut him short with a scoff.

 

 

The younger rolled his eyes and tilted his head. "I'm not doing any more shit for him-" 

 

 

"Just listen," Jeonghan raised his voice just so it drowned out Mingyu's complaining that made him sound like a salty teenager. "He wants to carry on what we did last time. You know—you hand us pot and we say thank you," he explained.

 

 

"What's in it for me?"

 

 

Shit. Wonwoo hadn't told him that. 

 

 

Jeonghan quickly racked his brain for something until he remembered, "Uh-If you're quicker this time, Minghao will do the tattoo he said you wanted. We might even give you cash in return for the pot." This was gonna come back to bite Jeonghan in the ass, he knew it.

 

 

"Why do you want more? Hasn't Wonwoo got a pretty stable business going anyway with drugs? Why does he want my shit?" Mingyu's expression reflected the confusion inside him like a lost puppy dog.

 

 

Jeonghan shrugged. "More money, I guess. Look, are you in?" He asked, bringing his open hand up in the space between the two. Mingyu eyed at it for a few seconds before he grabbed it with his own hand and strongly shook it.

 

 

"Fine. I'm in," he said.

 

 

Mingyu's hands almost engulfed Jeonghan's. They were warm and soft. Jeonghan's were cold.

 

 

"Good. I thought you would be," Jeonghan muttered, releasing his grip from Mingyu. "And if you wouldn't have been, Wonwoo would've beat me up too." He was undoubtedly glad that Mingyu hadn't just told him to fuck off or something. 

 

 

He gifted Mingyu a closed smile and a slight bow, keeping his eyes on Mingyu as he did. "I'll tell Wonwoo the good news." He began to stroll towards where he'd parked his bike until he heard the back door to the bar open and gently hit the wall.

 

 

He stopped.

 

 

"Mingyu, are you okay? You've been out here for a while," Seungcheol's deep voice, filled with concern, echoed in the wide alley.

 

 

Shit. Jeonghan froze. He kept his back to the two and listened to Mingyu stutter over his excuse before he was interrupted by Seungcheol's loud and clear voice, "Jeonghan-ah." There was no question in his tone, Jeonghan was aware Seungcheol knew exactly who it was simply by the colour of his red, leather jacket.

 

 

He huffed, shoulders rising and falling heavily and he whined under his breath.

 

 

"What the fuck brings you here?" Seungcheol urged and Jeonghan heard his footsteps grow closer until he felt his presence behind him. Jeonghan turned to face the man and smirked, angling his head slightly. He noticed Mingyu was stood not too far from Seungcheol, his eyes focused on his leader.

 

 

"Hey, Seungcheol" Jeonghan purred with a smile, studying Seungcheol's pale face. In fact, Jeonghan had never noticed how long Seungcheol's eyelashes were. They were dark and Jeonghan knew every woman who'd ever seen them must've envied them. Still, his eyes were narrowed with confusion and anger. 

 

 

"Is there something I need to know? Can't you tell me yourself instead of bothering Mingyu?" Seungcheol raised his brows a little, intensifying his stare.

 

 

Jeonghan shook his head and hissed inwards through his teeth. "Nope. There's nothing you need to know, Seungcheol. Not everything's about you, you know," he sassed with a soft voice.

 

 

Joyfully, he watched as Seungcheol's eyes darkened and he stepped closer. He was so extremely close, it was a face-off. Complimented with the fresh scent of mint, his breath was now warm on Jeonghan's face.

 

 

Jeonghan watched Seungcheol's thick lips as he spoke. They were always pink. Sometimes he wondered what they tasted like. 

 

 

"Then get off my fucking turf or-"

 

 

"Or what? You'll kiss me?" He interjected with a smile and observed with pleasure as Seungcheol's large eyes widened ever so slightly, and his head moved back to break the distance a little. Jeonghan saw the thoughts run through his mind and he waited for Seungcheol's next move.

 

 

Very much so, Seungcheol's next move appeared to be to shove Jeonghan hard enough for him to stumble back until he managed to sit on the bike that was behind him, knocking his helmet off the seat and onto the ground.

 

 

"Hyung don't, it's not worth it," Mingyu broke in, placing his hand on Seungcheol's broad shoulder.

 

 

"Just get inside, Mingyu, please," Seungcheol ordered calmly, his focus still on Jeonghan, and without another word, Mingyu turned around and headed for the door. He glanced over his shoulder to Jeonghan, his face blank, and then closed the door behind him.

 

 

Seungcheol waited until he'd heard the door close before he spoke again, "Tell me. What do you want with Mingyu? It isn't about more fucking races, is it?"

 

 

Jeonghan was exceedingly loyal to the Rockets. He'd do anything for them, nothing for them, whatever he had to do to remain faithful.

 

 

He also liked Seungcheol. Something about Seungcheol drew Jeonghan in and it had for a long time now.

 

 

However, when it came down to it, Choi Seungcheol was an enemy.

 

 

"Nothing. I don't want anything to do with Mingyu," Jeonghan said. He didn't move underneath Seungcheol's stare as he towered over him.

 

 

"Then why the are you here talking to one of my men? I can't let you go until I know what drew you to my fucking streets, Jeonghan," Seungcheol expressed, his patience almost all gone from his voice. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, Jeonghan could see that.

 

 

Jeonghan gazed up at Seungcheol and parted his lips. He answered with the only answer that filled his mind.

 

 

"You did."

 

 

Seungcheol's shoulders sunk. His features softened and he sighed quietly. Jeonghan observed the change in his eyes, how they shifted from irritated to-disappointed. He closed them and rubbed his forehead that was hidden beneath his black hair.

 

 

"I think it's time you left, Jeonghan," he mumbled, head still low and eyes on his shoes. "I won't mention you were here but next time, I won't hold back."

 

 

Jeonghan observed as Seungcheol slowly turned to the door and strolled in the direction of it, every footstep loud, echoing and lingering in the still silence.

 

 

"See you around, yeah?" Jeonghan called out once Seungcheol's hand had grabbed the door handle. He paused and glanced over his shoulder back at Jeonghan.

 

 

"You're lucky I like you, Yoon Jeonghan."

__

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_**— June -- Se** **oul -- Seongbuk Gu -- Moon Arcade** _

Time was almost non-existent in a place like this. 

 

 

Well, at least on the bottom floor where, purposefully, not one window was on any wall. It was almost similar to that of a casino where there'd be no windows to remind the people inside of how long they'd wasted their time inside, spending all their money on gambling. At least in the arcade, unlike a casino, there were still a few clocks based around the building, but still not enough.

 

 

It  _was_  possible that Wonwoo had fallen into that trap. He and Minghao had met Junhui outside the arcade at 10 pm. At that time, the sun had disappeared and it was completely dark outside so it wasn't as if Wonwoo could've noticed the sky changing as time passed even if there were to be windows. Still, he knew they'd been here for quite some time now, he was guessing around two hours. 

 

 

Two hours that had been spent rotating between the arcade games and switching between professional and more casual conversations. Wonwoo had never been this laid-back with any other gang apart from his own.

 

 

Meanwhile, Minghao had certainly done a good job with keeping Junhui unsuspecting. A  _very_  good job. Wonwoo wasn't stupid—he had noticed the occasional lingering eyes Minghao had left on Junhui and vice versa, along with the small touches that lasted longer than they should've. His only hope was that Minghao was playing up for tonight and that this wouldn't escalate otherwise it could get very dangerous...

 

 

"Wonwoo, I would've never known you to be so good at these games!" Junhui smiled and patted Wonwoo's shoulder with enthusiasm from where he stood behind Wonwoo who was seated at the arcade machine. He admitted that he enjoyed games like this, which was Tekken, and it was arguable he held some skill towards them, he'd just never had the chance to flaunt it.

 

 

Wonwoo's lips curled up into a closed smile before he chuckled. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Junhui," he said as he cracked his knuckles after just playing against Hansol and only just managing to beat him.

 

 

"Hey, there's still Jisoo to play against!" Chan exclaimed over the overlapping sounds from different games and the clamour of the people in the building. "Come on, hyung, let's see what you've got!" Chan said with a large smile that spread across his bright face. He gently nudged Jisoo to the machine beside Wonwoo until he'd taken a seat and looked across to Wonwoo.

 

 

"I'm really not that great at games," he chuckled.

 

 

Wonwoo smiled and replied, "That's okay." Then started a new match.

 

 

'Not that great at games,' how many other lies had Jisoo made up? He was kicking Wonwoo's ass at this! No matter how quickly Wonwoo's fingers jumped between buttons, or what tricks he hid up his sleeve, his character had continuously been kicked to the ground, along with his pride.

 

 

Jisoo's face was filled with surprise and joy as the game ended. Wonwoo clapped his hands and watched Chan wrap his arms around Jisoo, cheering.

 

 

"Watch out, Rockets, we've got Sun Jisoo!" Chan giggled and Hansol laughed along.

 

 

After the group had celebrated like excited teenage boys and Wonwoo and Minghao had watched quietly, Junhui suggested they went upstairs to the diner to focus on talking about subjects that were more significant. 

 

 

On the way, Wonwoo trailed behind to speak to Minghao.

 

 

"When are you gonna do it?" Minghao asked, leaning his head to the side to make sure Wonwoo heard him over the music.

 

 

"Oh, you remembered why we're here? I thought Junhui had brainwashed you with his charming smile," Wonwoo backtalked and smirked, keeping his eyes forward, on Hansol's back. They followed the four through the arcade but Wonwoo didn't like it; he wasn't the leader for once.

 

 

"Hyung, I'm only trying to help... Although, his smile isn't too bad." Minghao shrugged as he trailed off.

 

 

"Just be careful, yeah? Remember who these people are. They're not allies," Wonwoo tried to remind Minghao. He didn't want to have to deal with one of his own members falling for the leader of one of their rival gangs.

 

 

"Hey," Minghao muttered and elbowed Wonwoo's side. He brought his attention to Jisoo who walked past them. He was going the opposite direction, away from where the rest slowed down as they reached what seemed to be the diner.

 

 

"Where's Jisoo going?" Minghao asked as he hurried his walk so he could to stroll beside Junhui as everyone made their way through the fairly busy diner. 

 

 

Junhui smiled to Minghao and replied with a fairly sweet tone, "Oh, he just went to the bathroom, he won't be too long. We can just take a seat now."

 

 

This seemed like Wonwoo's best chance.

 

 

As everybody began to sit down at a neon-lit booth, Wonwoo stood at the end of the table to ask where the toilets were in the building. After Junhui had given him directions and Wonwoo had thanked him, he took his route. He didn't want to walk at an alarmingly quick pace as it might've seemed unusual and Wonwoo certainly didn't want to grab attention from anyone. Instead, he kept at a casual speed.

 

 

Through the crowds of people and maze of obnoxiously loud arcade games, Wonwoo played Junhui's instructions in his head,  _'straightforward until you reach the end of the room, then they should be on your right. There's a big neon sign so it isn't hard to miss'._

 

 

Upstairs was just as big as the bottom floor so it took a minute or two for Wonwoo to arrive at the other end but when he did, he certainly spotted the sign neon had mentioned.

 

 

In the bathroom, Wonwoo immediately spotted Jisoo with his hands under the dryer. Wonwoo had to think fast. As quietly as he could, Wonwoo travelled across the room until he was behind Jisoo. He wrapped his cold hand over Jisoo's lips and Jisoo jumped with shock.

 

 

He ripped Wonwoo's hand away and spun around. "What are you doing?!" He asked in a flustered tone. It was the loudest Wonwoo had ever heard him speak. His hand was up to his chest and he seemed to be fiddling with something—perhaps his shirt, Wonwoo didn't know.

 

 

"Just be honest, okay?" Wonwoo said composedly.

 

 

"About what? What do you want?"

 

 

Wonwoo huffed and tilted his head. "Stop playing dumb, Jisoo. I know it's you," he hissed, already feeling the frustration boil in the pit of his stomach.

 

 

"What? Wonwoo, I don't know what you're talking ab-"

 

 

Wonwoo couldn't let Jisoo finish his sentence before he'd slammed his hand onto Jisoo's chest and shoved him to the wall. The slam echoed in the room and so did Jisoo's sharp groan. His back slid down the tile wall until he was on the ground. Wonwoo crouched down so he was eye-level.

 

 

He pointed a finger to Jisoo and snarled, "You're the one who told my clients all this fucking talk so my shop would go to shit." Perhaps he sounded a little too confident with his assumption yet at this point, all he wanted was answers.

 

 

Jisoo frowned at him. "Why would I do-I'm new here, I have nothing against you-"

 

 

It was taking too long. Wonwoo shot up to his feet and stomped his foot on the wall, inches away from Jisoo's head. His force had created a small dent in the tiles but it hadn't scared Jisoo. He kept his eyes on Wonwoo as Wonwoo swiftly slid his hand inside his leather jacket only to whip out a handgun. It was fully loaded. He didn't like to mess around.

 

 

The click of the gun filled the short silence before Wonwoo raised his voice, "Don't fucking lie to me!" He shook his hand that held the gun as it pointed to Jisoo. He was aware that a gun was slightly over the top but what could he say? Sometimes he enjoyed the drama. "You're right. You  _are_  new here and, I dunno, you wanna cause trouble of some bullshit, or maybe someone sent you but whatever it fucking is, I know it's you."

 

 

Wonwoo  _refused_  to take his eyes away from Jisoo. From above, he observed Jisoo as the panic faded from his face even though the fear remained.

 

 

He sighed. "Alright, alright. But what will you do with me...?" His voice was quieter now. His shoulders sunk and he looked defeated.

 

 

A pang of relief hit Wonwoo. Hiss grip on the gun relaxed slightly and he tilted it more towards the ground. 

 

 

"Depends." Wonwoo kneeled back down and put the handgun away. "Why did you do it?"

 

 

"I-" Jisoo's eyes broke from Wonwoo's as they jumped around the room for a few seconds before coming back to Wonwoo. "It wasn't out of malice. Just-some jokes went too far and people started taking them seriously. That's all."

 

 

Wonwoo stared at Jisoo through hooded eyes, his sharp, cold glare bit straight through him.

 

 

"Next time, don't talk about me or my fucking game behind my back. Got it?" His tone was as dark as ever.

 

 

Jisoo nodded timidly. "Are you gonna make an example of me?" He asked with his hand up to his chest again. Wonwoo guessed perhaps he was playing with a necklace or something.

 

 

"I'll have to think it through," Wonwoo stated and stood up once again. Jisoo's head was drooped as he stared at the floor. Wonwoo began to leave the room as he said, "See you back at the diner, Jisoo. And don't tell a soul that this happened or I might have to fuck you up even more."

 

 

When he opened the door, Wonwoo made sure he used enough strength so it hit the wall behind it, leaving a loud bang as he left. A wave of satisfaction had washed over him as he walked down the hallway; he was right all along, his suspicions hadn't failed him and hopefully, he'd scared Jisoo enough so no shit like that would happen again.

 

 

Back at the diner, the group was still chatting and drinks were on the table now. Minghao had been busy listening to Junhui until Wonwoo stood at the end of the table in the red sofa booth. The younger looked to him, raising his brows. Wonwoo nodded gently. The deed was done.

 

 

"Well, I think it's time we got going." Minghao blurted and rubbed his hands together. His chunky, silver rings reflected the colourful lights in the room and caught Wonwoo's eye as his hands moved.

 

 

The others' faces quickly switched to a more confused expression. 

 

 

Hansol sat forward. "What? But we've only just sat down."

 

 

"I-uh-just got a call. A client wants to meet. But I think we've brought up enough tonight," Wonwoo said as he watched Minghao scoot out of the booth. The black-haired boy's lasting hand on Junhui's arm hadn't gone unmissed by Wonwoo either.

 

 

"Oh, okay. Uh, thanks for stopping by," Junhui replied awkwardly but Wonwoo and Minghao were already on their way out. 

 

 

Minghao glanced over his shoulder at Junhui. "Anytime!" He chimed.

 

 

"For fuck's sake, Minghao, you can stop that now. It's over, I got what we needed," Wonwoo snapped and softly hit the back of his hand off Minghao's hard chest as they paced out of the diner.

 

 

"I'm just keeping my act going. Don't wanna look suspicious," Minghao justified as he brought his head to scowl at Wonwoo.

 

 

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

 

 

As they left the diner, Jisoo was on his way towards it. He strode past Wonwoo and his strong eyes remained on him until he was completely past him.

 

 

"So, was it him?" Minghao asked as they turned a corner to hop down the huge staircase.

 

 

"Yes, it was. He needed a bit of-persuading but he admitted in the end."

 

 

"Fucking snake," Minghao hissed. "I can't wrap my head around him, he's... different."

 

 

"He's certainly unusual," Wonwoo agreed. It wasn't just because he was a newbie, no, Wonwoo suspected something else behind Jisoo's quiet presence.

 

 

Wonwoo had left the arcade through the back door where they were led to the rear end of the building since that was where they'd left their bikes. He was almost surprised the bikes were still here; he'd never trusted Junhui's streets.

 

 

Wonwoo was more than glad to get out of the arcade. His first breath of fresh air was heavenly, like freedom. The night was slightly warm but still much cooler than inside. He didn't want to be back in there for a long time; he hated how successful Junhui was and how, throughout the whole night, it'd been shoved in Wonwoo's face with the number of visitors and staff and grandness of the whole fucking establishment.

 

 

Whilst Wonwoo was setting up his motorbike, Minghao muttered as he slid on his helmet, "You were right, hyung. I don't know what we'd do without you."

 

 

Joy sparked in Wonwoo's chest.

 

 

"You'd probably be getting bossed around by Jihoon," Wonwoo chuckled as he pulled out his phone from his pocket and flicked through his contacts until he landed on Jeonghan. 

 

 

There was still one more thing to do before they left for home.

 

 

He knew it was immature but he couldn't help it. Jeonghan had disagreed with Wonwoo on his statement that it was Jisoo and now was his chance to prove him wrong.

He typed his message,  _'Mission accomplished. Sun Jisoo. He's the rat'_ and hit send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all Jisoo is sneakyyyy <3


	8. Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHaAaT?! An update?! I'm sorry this is taking so long, in return I'm giving out hugs uwu. (this chapter is kinda small, next one will be action packed I promise)  
> The reason it's been a big gap since the last update is because I'm also working on a new fic. But I'm trying to finish as many chapters of this one that I can too!

**_— June -- Seoul -- Gangnam Gu_**   ** _\-- Diamond Edge_**

"Seungkwan-ah... come in, will you?"

 

There weren't a lot of things that made Seungkwan shut up but amongst the small list of things that  _did_ , Seungcheol was certainly on there. More specifically, Seungcheol's ‘bad side’—when his voice would drop an octave, or even two, and the smooth texture would suddenly become gravelly as if he didn't have the time to mask the annoyance that was embedded deep within his throat. When his usually big and round eyes would sharpen into a more angular shape, and his stare, it wouldn't be cold, no, it'd be hot, scolding hot and melting into you until you gave in. Not to mention his wit when he was disputing with somebody, he always won.

 

So, it was safe to say that Seungkwan wasn't one for many words at this moment.

 

For almost ten minutes he had waited in the dim hallway, his back pressed against the wall beside the door to Seungcheol's office, watching other men go in and out of it. As he drummed his fingers against the wall that where his arms folded behind his back, he wondered: what exactly had he done? One thing for sure was that he knew it was something bad, something that Seungcheol hadn't taken a liking to, he just couldn’t figure out  _what_.

 

"Seungkwan are you still there?!" Seungcheol questioned, clearly impatient that Seungkwan seemed to be taking his time.

 

Seungkwan exhaled heavily after having inhaled deeply through his nose. He wasted no more time peeping round the door frame into the office where the last guy to leave had left the door open. He cleared his throat, awaiting Seungcheol's face to appear from the side of the computer screen. It didn't. Instead, he carried on to type and simply told Seungkwan to, 'take a seat', oh and, 'close the door'. It was like Seungkwan had been called to the principal’s office. He felt like a young schoolboy who had misbehaved and was only waiting to be shouted at. Oh, how he wished Seungcheol's intent was simply to only scold him for being late to class, or chewing gum, instead of whatever he was actually here for, most definitely something much more grievous… and perhaps illegal.

 

Seungcheol's office was darker than it usually was. The only source of light, apart from the harsh glow from the computer screen and the streetlight that shone from outside, was a floor lamp that shone beside the chair that Seungkwan was sitting up (as straight as he could) in. It was times like these where he would be on edge, aware of every little more, or sound he made.

 

The (almost) complete silence, if it wasn't for the violent clicking of Seungcheol's keyboard and incessant ticking of the clock, lasted far too long, a minute or two, to be precise. Seungkwan listened to the muffled voices that came from the hallway and the distant hubbub from the bar until Seungcheol's voice snatched his attention.

 

"I don't want to keep you too long; I know you have a few buyers to meet with soon but it's linked to that anyway. So, I'll cut straight to the chase." He rolled his chair to the side so the computer screen was no longer hiding his face and there it was: that blistering glare. "I've been hearing from a few sources now that  _your_ pot has been circulating _Wonwoo's_ streets," he stated then leaned back in his chair, lazily holding his hands out with his palms facing the ceiling. He raised his brows. "So?"

 

Seungkwan definitely had a small idea of why this was, as much as he didn't want to. The only answer that appeared in his mind was Mingyu, but he couldn’t betray his friend by telling Seungcheol, could he?

 

"I-uh..."

 

Seungcheol sighed and gave Seungkwan a knowing look. "I know it's yours, kid. I just want to know what the  _fuck_  it's doing on Rocket's turf. Have you been dealing with people over there or something?"

 

Seungkwan wet his bottom lip with his dry tongue. His lips tasted like the cherry lip balm he’d applied a while ago. He savoured the flavour, trying to distract himself from the current situation. He knew he couldn't get away with lying to Seungcheol; that man could see through the most complex of lies. And so, Seungkwan’s promise to Mingyu, to not tell anybody, was going to have to be broken.

 

"It's Wonwoo. He's been asking from Mingyu,” he almost mumbled, half hoping Seungcheol would’ve misheard him, or say he couldn’t hear him and simply dismiss him but unfortunately, life didn’t work as easy as Seungkwan wanted it to.

 

"From Mingyu?! That bastard,” Seungcheol hissed. "Why?" He leaned forward on his desk and stared at Seungkwan with the utmost frustration.

 

"Wonwoo wanted a prize, I guess, for winning that race and Mingyu had no one else to ask from but me." Seungkwan felt as if he was telling Seungcheol something he shouldn’t have been though really, it was the right thing. He knew it was better off that Seungcheol, since he was Boss, was aware of every situation. He glanced off to the side of the room, feeling a pang of guilt that he had broken his promise to Mingyu.

 

To Seungkwan’s surprise, Seungcheol remained relatively calm. "But you must be losing profit. Why didn't you just tell me and I could've sorted this out?"

 

"I think Mingyu's already had enough shit, don't you think?" Seungkwan snapped, brave enough to even voice such thoughts to Seungcheol. That would’ve surely built Seungcheol’s temper yet instead, the older only let out a loud sigh as he leaned back in his chair again. For a moment he didn't say a thing, and Seungkwan stayed completely still in his seat until-

 

"Look," he began. Seungkwan’s eyes panned quickly to his face. "I understand you're probably pissed about what's happened to Mingyu in the space of these two months. And for everyone's sake, I'm not going to hurt him, or even rebuke him, I won't let _anybody_ hurt him. Our gang is a family and you know everything I do for you boys is for good so next time, Seungkwan, don't keep things from me, please. That’s not to say I’m not disappointed in you and Mingyu, though—I am. You both should’ve come to me before this escalated."

 

Seungkwan knew that his words would mean nothing following Seungcheol's, so he nodded gently with pouted lips. Now he really did feel like a child.

 

"So, how are you gonna stop this shit?" Seungcheol asked firmly, any hint of compassion had disappeared. "Because I sure as hell am not gonna sit back and let this carry-on."

 

Seungkwan didn't know. He didn't know how he was going to tell Mingyu he couldn't take from his stash anymore. He didn't know how he was going to get Wonwoo to stop blackmailing Mingyu; Wonwoo didn't even know Seungkwan knew. Heck, Wonwoo didn't even know the drugs were Seungkwan's, not Mingyu's. It was all one tight knot in a rope that Seungkwan was struggling to untie.

 

"I will speak to Wonwoo," he answered and knew once he'd said that, he knew there was no turning back. Seungkwan was going to have to explain everything to Wonwoo and simply pray to God that Wonwoo wasn't too pissed off. What was he thinking? Without a doubt, Wonwoo was going to be angry about this. It was Jeon Wonwoo for crying out loud.

 

Seungcheol nodded once. "I'm putting my trust in you, Seungkwan. I believe you're capable of fixing this on your own, so please don't fuck up." His heavy words sat strongly on Seungkwan's shoulders that were almost too small to carry them. He knew they wouldn't be leaving until the job was done and done properly.

 

"Of course. I won't let you down, hyung," he promised as he'd stood up to give Seungcheol a small bow, hands neatly folded. Another promise. Hopefully this time, he wouldn’t break it. He fixed his light brown bangs back into place with the delicate touch of his fingers as he made his way to the door. 

 

Upon opening the door, Seungcheol muttered as he’d wheeled his chair back along to his computer, "Thank you, Seungkwannie."

 

Seungkwan luckily heard what he’d said over the sound of the rolling wheels on Seungcheol’s chair. He smiled softly over his shoulder before leaving.

 

 

***

 

 

It wasn't often that Seungkwan arrived before Hansol. It frightened him, especially now; even though he only saw him every other week, Seungkwan was always paying attention to detail, only with Hansol. He knew the effects that drugs had on people, of course, he did, and he knew he shouldn't have to blame himself but with Hansol, he simply couldn't bear it. Hansol was exhausted  _constantly_ , lack of motivation, unable to focus, tired eyes, smaller frame. The kid was addicted, drawn in, trapped,  _blind_ and Seungkwan couldn't watch it go on.

 

Somewhere in Jungnang-gu, in a small and quiet cafe, Seungkwan watched out the window where he was sat next to, and the chair across from him was still empty and cold. The sun had almost set, making the sky soft pink. Observing every person who rushed past, he anticipated for one of them to be Hansol until he noticed a young, smartly dressed boy who jogged through the crowd. Seungkwan's eyes followed him until he entered the cafe, immediately given a warm greeting from the employees.

 

Seungkwan waved and called out, "Here, Hansol." Hansol's head turned slowly to Seungkwan's direction before he strolled in his direction, a lazy smile on his lips. "Good evening. I missed you," Seungkwan smiled.

 

"It's nice to see you again," Hansol returned. Seungkwan had to admit to himself—this wasn’t particularly usual. To meet up with one of his buyers for coffee was bad enough, but for them to also have been a Neon Boy, an enemy, was far past the line of acceptable.

 

"I just got you the same as me, iced americano, that okay?" Seungkwan gestured to the full glass in front of Hansol. It was dripping with condensation, droplets pooled beneath the glass and soaked into the wooden table.

 

Hansol nodded happily and shrugged. "Dope." And sipped from his straw.

 

Dope? Seungkwan tilted his head.

 

"I ordered us a cupcake each too. Thought you might be hungry," Seungkwan said and glanced at the relatively small dessert in front of Hansol. He’d had already eaten his own when he was waiting for Hansol. The sight of a sweet, fluffy cake that sat and just begged for Seungkwan to eat it was much too tempting. 

 

"Aren’t we supposed to be intimidating gangsters? And here we are eating cupcakes,” Hansol chuckled and Seungkwan smiled. It did seem rather out of character, though Seungkwan often enjoyed spending time as if he wasn’t a gangster belonging to a notorious biker gang. “Anyway, I'm always hungry, nowadays. I’ll take anything," Hansol said quietly.

 

"It's because you're smoking so much you must have an appetite through the roof! And spending all your cash on pot instead of food mustn't be helping. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Chwe Hansol." Seungkwan wasn't holding back. He hadn’t meant to sound as harsh as he had but it seemed to get the message across to Hansol, that his actions weren’t going unnoticed.

 

It would've felt contradicting if Seungkwan had complained about this and then continued to hand over more weed to Hansol, only feeding into the fire he was trying to extinguish. That was why this time around, Seungkwan had other plans.

 

He watched Hansol as he picked at his cupcake with his fingers. "When has the dealer ever questioned his buyer? Shouldn't he just be happy they're giving him money?" He muttered as he chewed, no note of banter in his tone.

 

Seungkwan could tell he was being serious, so he mirrored his tone, "I'm your friend as well as your dealer and I happen to care more than you'll ever notice," he bit back, almost offended by what Hansol had just told him. He began to question all that he had done for Hansol as if it wasn't enough for him to notice. "I want to help you," he said in the midst of wrapping his pink lips around his straw, words only just understandable. 

 

Hansol stopped chewing.

 

"We're supposed to hate each other," he replied so quietly that is was almost a whisper. He placed his cupcake back down on the table. Seungkwan watched him stare into his soul as he'd waited for an answer. With caution, he studied Hansol’s light brown eyes where he had expected to find coldness, confusion, disgust though instead, all he found was apology and sympathy.

 

"There's no one around me who I can relate to as much as you; we're the same age. I just don't want to let that go to waste. You deserve better, Hansol, I wanna make sure you get that." Seungkwan had let the truth spill and at first, it looked like Hansol had taken some time to process what he'd said. That scared Seungkwan. But eventually, from the tiny smirk that slowly appeared on his lips, it hadn't all seemed like a bad idea.

 

"You're too kind to me, Boo Seungkwan. We shouldn't even be speaking to each other yet here we are." Hansol's grin grew wider when he picked up the cupcake.

 

Seungkwan felt a grin on his warm face. "What can I say? My heart is soft. Anyway, why are you all dressed up? Got a date later? I thought it was us King Riders and us King Riders _only_ to dress as neat as this?" Seungkwan asked as he gestured to Hansol's clothes: he was wearing a black suit with white pinstripes, it looked to be tailored to fit his slim form and he seemed to suit it perfectly well. Seungkwan found himself staring.

 

"Not quite. Gang meeting-and don't bother asking what it's about. Confidential," Hansol replied, his tone stern, yet still friendly. "King Riders aren't the only ones who can suit up and look good." He smirked again.

 

 

Eventually, events were taken to the bathroom. Hansol stood at the sinks and his fingers messed with his light hair until he was satisfied.

 

“So, you’re going to that meeting now, hm?” Seungkwan asked. He knew what he had to do. He didn't want Hansol to see the packet this time. Not when it was actually filled with candy, not weed, and written in sharpie it read,  _'I'm sorry. I love you, forgive me.'_

 

“Mhmm,” Hansol hummed in reply and smoothed his suit down.

 

The guilt Seungkwan felt for doing this was agonising but it was something he had to at least try instead of passively watching Hansol destroy himself. Perhaps it wasn't all right, and maybe it wasn't Seungkwan's place to say, but he cared too much.He cared so much for what his hyungs would call a  _rival_ , an  _enemy_.

 

"Just, uh, don't bother paying me this time, Hansol," Seungkwan said as he stepped closer so his front was pressed against the back of Hansol. He slowly slid his hand into Hansol's back pocket to deposit the 'drugs'. Candy. Seungkwan felt that Hansol had jumped slightly at the touch of Seungkwan's eager hand on a rather personal area, yet he carried on tending to his appearance.

 

He replied with a shaky voice, "Really?" And quickly spun around. Seungkwan removed his hand. There was a confused smile on Hansol's lips as he spoke, "What have I ever done to deserve this?"

 

Seungkwan shrugged with a friendly smile to mask the guilt. "You're my favourite customer."

 

 

 

 

 

 ** _— June -- Seoul -- Mapo Gu_**   ** _\-- Check-In_**

Nothing but the constant, low buzzing of the gun filled the focused silence. His hands were steady, they didn't shake in the slightest, they followed each line as if his life depended on it, mistakes were forbidden. Working at night wasn't usually his favourite time but he wasn't doing a favour for just any other customer.

 

The pale skin on Seokmin's inner forearm, thanks to Minghao, was now decorated intricately with fine lines of dark ink that made up a neat row of planets all the way to his wrist. It was a simple design. He thinks that Seokmin only chose something relating to the Rockets simply as an excuse to get another free tattoo. He didn’t care nor mind; tattooing was his hobby.

 

Minghao's long bangs, that parted in the middle, itched at his eyes yet he didn't stop until the job was done. He was a motivated worker, and he liked to work hard. He like to work as much as he could, until his fingers ached, until he hadn’t moved in hours, until he had created a new ink masterpiece.

 

As the thin needle slowly travelled closer to the more sensitive skin on Seokmin's wrist, he flinched and hissed, "Ah, it hurts there." His arm tensed and the tendons moved beneath the skin as he did so. Minghao rolled his eyes as he forced Seokmin's arm back into position.

 

"Stop bitchin', I'm almost done," he mumbled and started tracing the needle along his skin again once Seokmin’s arm had relaxed once more.

 

"No pay for this, right?" Seokmin asked and Minghao could feel his eyes on him. He shook his head a little, though not too hard—he had to keep his vision still.

 

"Lucky for you, no pay. No need now that business is almost back to normal again,” he answered, though he didn’t truly know if he had pronounced every word until deemed audible. One thing he struggled to do when he was working was talk at the same time. Most of the time, he was far too engrossed in the job.

 

"It was so quick. I can’t believe Sun Jisoo _actually_ sorted it out. Didn't think he would've done anything but hiding from now on. Jeonghan's still pissed he guessed wrong," Seokmin chuckled, causing his arm to move under Minghao's grip. He tightened his hand on Seokmin, the black rubber glove rubbing against his skin.

 

"Keep still."

 

"Sorry, hyung,"

 

It had only been a few days since Minghao had done his job with Wonwoo and yet in those few days, he'd gladly seen some well-known customers return. Minghao didn't know what Wonwoo had said to Jisoo, and he daren't ask, but he liked the power this situation held. Everything was nicely falling back into place.

 

"Money’s rolling in again now, Minghao. What with Mingyu still providing, and there's also the cocaine from China, and now the shop is back." There was a brightness to Seokmin’s voice, like always. Minghao listened intently to him as he worked on his arm. Whatever Seokmin knew, Minghao trusted; Seokmin took care of the money. He was always calculated and alert, even when he didn't seem like it. Seokmin was very, _very_ smart.

 

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we're any stronger. We’re gaining in customers, not members," Minghao replied, almost slurring his words as he put all of his concentration onto getting the last of the tattoo perfect.

 

"Doesn’t matter. We're already strongest," Seokmin remarked, his voice an octave lower. _Already strongest._ It was as if Wonwoo had put those words in Seokmin’s mouth. Minghao wiped Seokmin's arm clean once more and turned off the tattoo gun. He sat up straight, spine cracking. Seokmin sighed, "You're done?"

 

"I'm done," Minghao copied and watched Seokmin admire his new markings with his famous huge, bright smile. "Hold on, let me wrap it up," he said and stood up to search for the cling film, throwing his gloves on the side. As he had raised to his feet, he felt every muscle in his body stretch for the first time in so long. God, he felt old. For a few minutes, it had only been Seokmin blabbering on to Minghao who didn't care to listen until somebody else entered the room, stopping Seokmin in his tracks.

 

"Minghao, I've been looking for you," A light voice called from the door that presumably belonged to Jeonghan. Minghao listened to his footsteps as he kept his back to him, searching through his drawers for the cling film-where the fuck was it?!

 

"Jeonghan hyung, what do you think?" Seokmin asked, his tone that of an excited child.

 

Minghao's tired hands rummaged through the drawers, over the paper and the tattoo guns and the bottles of ink-Fuck, he needed to tidy up.

 

"Oh, nice. Did you cry like a little bitch?” Jeonghan giggled lightly.

 

Minghao sighed heavily with frustration. He threw another drawer open, almost pulling the whole thing out of the workspace.

 

"Speaking of tattoos, Minghao. I need to ask you a favour-"

 

He forced the drawer shut.

 

First, a violent slam. Then, silence.

 

Minghao ran his aching fingers through his hair. His back was still turned and he didn't want that to change. Not after he just threw his toys out of the pram. He knew, by the air, that no one else would dare to speak before he.

 

"What's your favour, hyung?" He croaked in a deep voice, not bothering to turn around to face Jeonghan.

 

"First of all," Jeonghan said and Minghao listened to him walk to his workspace. He then came over to Minghao. With a strong hand on his shoulder, he spun him around so Minghao was forced to look at him. Quite forcefully, Jeonghan grabbed Minghao's wrist and placed the roll of clingfilm in his palm. "Next time look properly," he sassed. Minghao clicked his tongue. "And secondly, you're going to give Mingyu his tattoo."

 

Seokmin had instantly burst out into a fit of laughter, "Good luck with that, Minghao!" Minghao shot a deathly glare to Seokmin in order to stop his giggles. Then, he brought it back to Jeonghan who stood with a smirk on those perfectly pink lips of his.

 

"And don't even think about saying no," he growled and strolled to the leather sofa across the room. Minghao watched him as he tore enough cling film off to wrap around Seokmin's arm. The older casually rested one leg over the other and leaned back into the sofa. "I've already spoken to Boss Man Wonwoo, he said he'll allow it."

 

"Of course, he would if it’s Mingyu,” Minghao whispered. “But the deal was if he wins, I'd do him the job. He didn't win. I did," he retorted as he turned his back on Jeonghan again to finish off Seokmin's arm. That hadn’t lasted for long when Jeonghan threw a pillow off Minghao's back.

 

"For fuck's sake, Minghao! What did I just say?"

 

Minghao looked back at Jeonghan and rolled his eyes. If Jeonghan wasn’t his hyung, there’d be no doubt that the pillow would’ve been thrown back at him, but Minghao remained as respectful as he could’ve in this moment. "Why am I doing this, hm? What have you said to him?" He questioned, evidently irritated now.

 

"You’re giving him this tattoo to make sure he still has a motivation to hand us his dope, that's why. I'm just finding ways to keep the business running smoothly." Jeonghan shrugged.

 

 _Or, you’re just finding ways to piss me off,_ Minghao thought.

He sighed and threw the roll of clingfilm back onto the table, and leaned back on it, the bottom of his leather jacket brushing against the surface of the table. "Whatever, I'll do it. But..." He dug through his pockets for his packet of cigarettes and lighter and flicked the box open with his thumb. He was almost out. Eyes on Jeonghan, he placed one between his lips and lit it. Just to make Jeonghan wait even longer, he took a long, deep drag from the cigarette. "Bump me up by ten per cent, Seokmin. I don't get enough for this shit," he mumbled the last part into the smoke that left his lips and tilted his head to Seokmin’s direction slightly.

 

"There's always a catch with you, Xu Minghao," Jeonghan chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head, his short caramel locks moved with the movement.

 

"You want me to increase your pay?" Seokmin asked. Minghao nodded. "I guess since you did such a good job on my arm, I can speak to Wonwoo about it."

 

Wonwoo. Last time Minghao had seen Wonwoo was this morning when he’d left with Jihoon to run errands. They were still working.

 

"So that's that then!" Jeonghan exclaimed as he shot back up to his feet with a bright grin. He hopped over to Minghao and heartedly patted him on the shoulder. With a smile, he took the cigarette from Minghao's mouth and took a puff from it himself. "I appreciate it, brother." The smoke blew back into Minghao’s face as he gave him the cigarette back.

 

"Anytime, hyung," Minghao coughed a little.

 

As Jeonghan began to leave the room, he shouted back, "Tomorrow evening, leave a slot clear, please."

 

Once Jeonghan had left the room, Minghao mumbled under a hint of sarcasm, "Anything for Wonwoo's darling little Mingyu."

 

 

 

 

 

**_— June -- Seoul -- Seongbuk Gu_ **

"Why do we have to dress up like this anyway? I feel like one of Seungcheol's ritzy boys," Chan whined as he adjusted the thin white turtleneck that hid beneath his baby blue dress shirt with a deep blue blazer over the top of it all. He wasn't one to dress formally often; usually, he'd stick to the gang's jacket.

 

"I spoke to you before we left," Junhui said before leaning in closer across the table to whisper harshly, "We're here on business terms. I've told you once and I'll tell you again: we're fucking businessmen. So, suck it up, kiddo." Junhui stared up at Chan through hooded eyes and instantly Chan leaned back in his chair with a new pout on his lips. A pout that was very familiar to the others.

 

He didn't even know the real reason they were here, though he knew the rest of the crew did. Always last to be informed... once again. Quite frankly, he was almost irritated that he had no clue why Junhui had forced him into the most uncomfortable outfit he could've found in Seoul, and dragged him all the way to some fucking high-class restaurant.

 

Still, if it wasn't worth all of this, it wasn't like he could take it out on his own boss. The last time Chan had ever blamed Junhui for something, even though it _was_ Junhui’s fault, it did not go well for himself. An almost broken jaw—that was what it’d cost Chan and to be quite honest, he’d rather he didn’t get a fully broken one this time. So, he shut up.

 

It was fairly late into the evening, perhaps eight. Chan sat beside Hansol who was practically eating the whole table as much as he tried to keep his manners in such a formal establishment. Even at this time, it was still fairly busy, although luckily, it wasn't loud, the chatter was low and civil, the clinking of cutlery and the soft music drowned the group's conversations out good enough.

 

"Smile, Chan. You look very smart." Jisoo grinned from beside Junhui and let out a polite giggle. Chan watched Junhui's lips curve upwards too yet his own lips only got poutier. He still didn't know how to handle himself around Jisoo. He'd tried to tell himself it wasn't Jisoo he'd seen that night at the street race but truthfully, he knew it was. And he still hadn't figured out why exactly he was there. It disturbed, as well as concerned him deeply.

 

"Junhui hyung has brought us out here because he has a plan. Can we just stop the complaining and listen, please?" Hansol jumped into the conversation.

 

"Don't bother trying to get on my good side, Hansol. Where did you go earlier? We almost missed the reservation because of your late ass," Junhui bit back.

 

"Just-"

 

Before Hansol could’ve explained, Chan had stomped on his foot beneath the table; he knew exactly where Hansol had been and Junhui did not have to know. He couldn’t. Hansol yelped in pain, shooting his knee up and hitting it under the table, causing a bang and for the plates to have almost jumped up and the soup only just managed to remain in the bowls. Jisoo had scowled at the mess that was almost made.

 

Junhui sighed, "Look, whatever. There are more significant matters to discuss right now. Listen up, boys." He scooted his chair closer and cleared his throat, a smile creeping on his lips. "I've heard from an informant that tomorrow night Seungcheol is gonna send off a supply of valuable weapons to a guy who wants to buy them from him. Some gang in Gangseo district."

 

Chan knew exactly where Junhui was going with this. As much as he was up for the guns and the thrill, he didn't want Junhui to say it.

 

"I fixed up a van, we're going to get those guns."

 

He said it.

 

"Shit, that's badass," Hansol chortled as he slurped up a mouthful of noodles. He was the only one out of the three that seemed most amused by Junhui’s idea. Then again, Hansol could probably find a way to laugh at paint drying. More often than not, it was a struggle to tell when he was or when he wasn’t high.

 

"What about this gang who wants them? I don't think they're just going to hand over the guns to us," Jisoo said in such an analytical tone. Chan had no choice but to sit back up to listen to him; he was awfully quiet most of the time.

 

"Hopefully we’ll arrive before them. But we'll bring our own guns just in case.”

 

"And what if they tell Seungcheol?" Chan asked.

 

"That's why you're staying back at the apartment, Chan. If we aren't back by the time they've been told-if they have been told-then it's up to you to hold things up."

 

Chan’s face dropped. That was a lot of responsibility. Then again, at least he didn't have to take part in taking Seungcheol's weapons; because they were Seungcheol's, they were also Soonyoung's and Chan wanted to try his best to make Soonyoung's life as stress-free as possible because of how strongly he cared for him. Messing up the King Rider's deals didn't seem like it'd exactly help. Yet despite that factor, he wasn't against Junhui's plan, in fact, he enjoyed the idea of the gang owning more guns; currently, they had very few compared to Rockets or King Riders. It'd definitely bring more confidence to the group, and himself.

 

"Fine by me," he muttered and leaned across and picked some kimchi from the bowl close to Junhui.

 

"Jisoo, you'll drive. Hansol stays in the back. I'll get in the front with you, Jisoo," Junhui pointed to the boys with his chopsticks when he said their names. 

 

Hansol rubbed his hands together with a smile. "Yes, sir."

 

"But I don't know the route," Jisoo added, genuine concern in his tone.

 

"We're going to have to go through two of Wonwoo's districts, then through Seungcheol's turf. They won't know it's us when we're in the van. Don't worry, Jisoo, I'll explain it again tomorrow evening." Junhui seemed very confident with his plan like he'd recited it before the meeting tonight.

 

“And what the fuck do you want me to do if Seungcheol and his crew actually does show up? You want me to take all four of them on?” Chan couldn’t do that to Soonyoung, there was no way in hell.

 

“You’re a fighter, Chan. They won’t kill you, they can’t.”

 

Chan believed in Junhui and most of his theories, and most of the time, he was right to trust them. Yet with this one, Chan didn’t know how to feel. Unsure, that was how he’d felt ̶ uncertain. It wasn’t in the way Junhui had explained things, or Hansol’s excitement in it all, or the fact that Chan was going to be alone, maybe even waiting for the King Riders to show up at the door and bust his ass. No, it was Jisoo. The lingering thoughts that whispered in the back of his mind that Jisoo shouldn’t be trusted. That behind the sweet smile and kind words, there was a secret, and Chan had witnessed a hint of that secret at the car meetup…

 

Now, he was simply waiting for it to unfold.

 


	9. Bloodbath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this must be a miracle, another chapter!  
> thanks for reading, lovely ones <3

**_— June -- Seoul –_ ** **_Seongbuk Gu_ **

“One for the money, two for the show,” Junhui muttered to himself as he’d started the engine to the van, twisting the keys with his icy cold fingers. Shit, it was cold in this van. Despite the fact that it did almost nothing for him, Junhui breathed into his hands and rubbed them together quickly, he’d done this few times-until Jisoo knocked on the car window beside him and almost scared the warmth back out of him. He rolled down his window to listen to what Jisoo had to say.

 

“I thought you said I was driving tonight?” He asked, looking at Junhui with scrunched brows. Junhui had noticed Jisoo had a habit of making his face look far more confused than he truly was. In fact, quite often he’d exaggerate his reactions, it came across as rather funny to the boys and now Jisoo had adopted this as a running joke.

 

“You were. Until I remembered you said you have no fucking clue about the right route and then I remembered we can’t be late,” Junhui explained, sliding his hands up and down the leather of the steering wheel. Even without looking, he was able to tell it was a cheap material, perhaps not even leather. Though he wasn’t at all surprised; he didn’t exactly borrow this shit from one of his wealthiest friends—he had thought about simply renting one for the night but that would’ve been too much of a risk if they were to be caught in the act that they were supposed to pull off tonight.

 

“Good decision.” Jisoo smiled softly and patted the side of the vehicle before jogging around the front to get into the passenger seat. As he’d ran past, his earring caught in the headlights that Junhui had turned on, it glinted in his eye, something he’d never noticed on Jisoo before. Once he was in the car, Junhui was able to get a closer look. It was just one silver earring, small, and seemed to be a crucifix.

 

“You believe in God, or is that just for fashion?” Junhui blurted out and kept his eyes on the earring, whilst Jisoo had fastened in his seatbelt. Once he’d finished, he lifted his head to meet Junhui’s intrigued gaze. Jisoo looked to be taken aback by Junhui’s out-of-the-blue question, judging from his brows when they’d raised slightly and his lips had opened into an ‘o’ shape.

 

“Oh-yes, raised Christian.” He nodded. “It’s all I know.”

 

Junhui had never knew that about Jisoo. Although looking back now, his overly polite behaviour and sincere words seemed to make more sense. Not to mention the thought that Junhui could count on one hand the few times that Jisoo had cursed.

 

“What is somebody so faithful to the Lord doing in a gang? Are you his favourite? Does he let you off for all of the sins you’ve committed here?” Junhui chuckled. He may have been laughing, though he truly couldn’t wrap his head around why Jisoo was here, really. The crimes he’d committed, surely, they counted as sins to a Christian? Still, Junhui didn’t know much when it came to religion… or Jisoo for that matter.

 

Jisoo dipped his head and laughed silently at Junhui’s comment. “Certainly not. He’s punishing me alright.” Junhui watched him glance out the window to stare at the night sky. He was just about to ask what he’d meant by this until Hansol and Chan arrived.

 

“Hop in the back, Hansol,” Junhui ordered and Hansol did as he was told. Chan rushed to the window that Junhui still had rolled down. The younger rested his elbows on the edge and peered up at Junhui. “You remember what I told you, yeah?” Junhui asked.

 

Chan nodded with big eyes. “Sure, hyung. I’ve got my gun on me.” He patted his torso, most likely where the gun was hiding, in his jacket. “And I promise I won’t leave until you’re back.”

 

“What about if Seungcheol and his boys show up?”

 

“I’ll speak to ‘em and if they don’t listen, I put up a fight,” Chan recalled back to Junhui like a child reciting the house rules to his parents before he was left home alone. “Shit, I’m scared hyung.” His head dropped and his forehead rested on his arms. Junhui ruffled the boy’s soft hair and patted it.

 

“You can do this, Chan. There’s a chance they won’t even come. Just, don’t worry,” Junhui reassured, and had only let truth leave his mouth. Chan brought his head back up to give Junhui those innocent, bright eyes.

 

“Good luck hyung. Just be careful,” he said in a small voice. His eyes had shifted to Jisoo. Junhui didn’t know if this was intentional by Chan but the look that he’d held towards Jisoo was-unusual. Though once Junhui had thanked Chan, he was quick to return a big smile and step back from the van. “Come on, we’re already running late,” Junhui said as he’d watched Chan make his way back into the apartment block. He held down the button and watched his window roll back up, his reflection reappearing.

 

Just like he should’ve expected, it had taken Junhui some time to get used to driving a van; he was so used to just his bike, and riding alone. It was rather a pleasant change: to have had somebody to speak to whilst driving.

 

“I haven’t been able to speak to you alone since Wonwoo and Minghao visited. What did you think of them without the other Rockets? Still scary?” Junhui asked with a smile, switching gears and keeping his eyes ahead. He’d felt Jisoo’s gaze on him through the corner of his eye, though he couldn’t return it.

 

“They’ve never scared me.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I’ve never found the Rockets nor the King Riders threatening. I have people on my side that they don’t have,” Jisoo said. That was the first time Junhui had ever let his eyes trail away from the road and onto Jisoo instead. Jisoo stared down at his lap, his hands neatly folded over each other.

 

“Who, us?” Junhui asked. Jisoo met his eyes and hesitated.

 

“…Yes.”

 

 

It hadn’t taken long before they were in Gangseo-gu: a district of Wonwoo’s. It would’ve been a lie if Junhui had said he wasn’t at least a little on edge as he’d drove through the Rocket’s streets. He was even aware of how hypocritical it was: crossing into enemy turf when only last month, he’d gotten Chan to beat Mingyu for doing the exact same to him—but they didn’t have to know that.

 

These roads were no different to the roads in his own districts, he’d known that before streets began to belong to other men, when it was safe to go anywhere in the city. The only difference was the people here: friends of Wonwoo’s, his associates, his gang, they were faces that Junhui would’ve never seen on his own turf. They were also men that wouldn’t have hesitated to let Wonwoo know if they’d seen Junhui, so he’d had to be careful. He knew the guys around here and they were very loyal to Wonwoo, even though they weren’t a Rocket, they’d have probably aspired to be one. That was most likely why anything would’ve been done for Wonwoo if it meant they were on his good side.

 

To be on his bad side was _impossible_ to escape once you were, and he would make sure you knew that was the side you were on.

 

Even though he was unable to see Hansol, who was in the back, he knew that Jisoo was the one who seemed most on edge. The constant questions about if this road was out of sight, or if Wonwoo went here often weren’t helping Jisoo if he was trying to hide his fear. Junhui couldn’t have blamed him. Every so often, when he looked to his side, he saw Jisoo’s panicked eyes: he looked like a deer caught in headlights, and he clutched to his seatbelt like a child.

 

“Do you think Hansol’s okay back there?” Jisoo asked all of a sudden, his soft voice almost drowned out by the low rumbling of the vehicle.

 

Junhui nodded as he’d took a left turn to go down a more desolate road compared to the bustling highways that he’d been (annoyingly) stuck on for quite a while. “Of course. I told him to sort out the bags for the guns so he shouldn’t be bored,” he responded nonchalantly and then asked if Jisoo was worried at all.

 

“Well-yes. Why shouldn’t I be?”

 

Junhui tutted, “You should put some more faith in my boys, Jisoo. I know, they’re quite young and still have a lot to learn, but they’re really clever. Hansol,” Junhui threw his thumb over his shoulder, to gesture to Hansol, “he might be a pothead but I swear that kid’s fucking smart. And not just street-smart” Junhui quickly glanced across to Jisoo who looked back at him with wide eyes. “And I’m also sharp too. Yeah, I know he’s buying from one of Seungcheol’s men, an old friend told me who goes to Diamond Edge occasionally. And I know you and Chan know it too, I just thought I’d keep that knowledge to myself.” Junhui smirked at Jisoo and tapped his nose, a gesture that had said, _‘I knew all along’._ “No but really, you’re gonna have to trust us more, hyung.”

 

Until Junhui had come to a red light, the car had been silent. “Why haven’t you spoken to Hansol? About you knowing?” Jisoo asked whilst the wheels were stationary on the road, and the red light glared through the wide window and onto their faces.

 

Junhui shrugged with his hands on the wheel. “What’s the point? I trust that Hansol will stay on the low like he has done so far. And if he slips up and something happens, then he’s learned his lesson not to break the rules. It’d be better than me sitting him down and yelling at him, he’d never learn that way.” He gently pushed his foot down on the pedal as the green light had appeared. “We’re almost here. Call Hansol for me, put him on speaker,” Junhui ordered.

 

Jisoo was quick to do so, and he’d scrambled for his phone. Junhui glimpsed it briefly. It was strangely _bare_. Perhaps it was just Jisoo’s preference, but his phone didn’t seem very personalized; the wallpaper was still default and his contacts were so empty. It was almost like his phone was brand new.

 

Waiting for Hansol to answer Jisoo’s call, Junhui drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, making sure he was going the right way as he’d gotten closer to their destination.

 

“He’s on another line,” Jisoo sighed.

 

Junhui frowned and stopped tapping. “Who the fuck is he talking to?” He groaned and slammed his fist on the wall behind a few times. “Chwe Hansol!”

 

“I’ll try again,” Jisoo suggested.

 

Thank God, this time Hansol had picked up.

 

Jisoo had held his phone in the space between the two after hitting speaker. Junhui leaned in slightly, as he’d driven, to make sure Hansol was able to hear. “Hansol, once this van has stopped, I’m going to get the guns with Jisoo. When you hear me knock, open that fucking door and take them,” Junhui instructed. He kept his words as clear as he could’ve through his slight accent, and he’d spoken louder than normal.

 

It was vital that Hansol knew what he was doing; if he didn’t open that door in time, he could be left alone with two dead bodies.

 

 

 

 

 

 ** _— June -- Seoul -- Mapo Gu_**   ** _\-- Check-In_**

If it was anyone apart from Kim Mingyu, Wonwoo wouldn’t have waited this long—outside his own shop too. Well, out the back; there was no way he would’ve let anybody in public witness him as he’d allowed a King Rider into the shop. This was supposed to be top secret between the Rockets and Mingyu only.

 

Tapping his foot quite violently on the concrete floor, Wonwoo unlocked his phone to check the time for the third time in a row. By now, the shop had closed since it was past 9 pm ̶ one could’ve said that Mingyu was a _private client._ Jeonghan had informed him on what he’d spoken about to Mingyu when he’d come back from being sent out to see him. It had taken some persuasion, but Wonwoo agreed to this tattoo idea although he still couldn’t believe he was letting one of his own men ink somebody else’s.

 

He wanted to speak to Mingyu before they went inside, that was why he was waiting out here alone whilst the others joked around like idiots inside. What Wonwoo was waiting for-well that he didn’t know-it was either the blinding headlights of Mingyu’s bike as he rolled down the alleyway, or the sound of his heavy footsteps as he strolled closer.

 

Whichever one it was, he wished it’d hurry the fuck up….

 

…But then, it was neither.

 

“Wonwoo hyung.” _Hyung_. It was his voice instead that had come from the darkness.

 

Wonwoo sharply lifted his head from the floor and watched Mingyu’s tall figure as it had made its way towards him. Was that a smile? It was. The first time Wonwoo had ever seen Mingyu smile so genuinely. It was so bright and charming, Wonwoo couldn’t stop a small smile from creeping onto his own lips.

 

Mingyu bowed slightly as he’d grown closer. “Sorry, I’m late, aren’t I?”

 

“When aren’t you?” Wonwoo joked, though Mingyu didn’t seem to get his tone and he dipped his head slightly, smile fading.

 

“Y’know, a part of me feels bad for you, Mingyu.” Mingyu’s head lifted quicker than Wonwoo had expected it to. “You’re one of the toughest guys in the business and yet you’re always on the receiving end of somebody’s fist.” His smile returned. That was all Wonwoo had wanted.

 

Under the streetlamp, Wonwoo had taken notice to the bruises and few cuts on Mingyu’s face that seemed a few days old. Carefully, he brought his hand up to gently run his index finger along a harsh bruise on Mingyu’s cheekbone. He watched in amusement as Mingyu suddenly seemed quite shocked for Wonwoo to have touched him.

 

“What happened?” Wonwoo asked as he removed his hand, but still stared at the mix of black, blue and purple hues. He’d tried to keep his reaction as emotionless as possible to Mingyu.

 

The taller male lifted his own hand to touch where Wonwoo had before. “Ah. Seungcheol hyung. This was my punishment for the race,” Mingyu explained.

 

So, it seemed that Seungcheol was still in control. Wonwoo had nodded slowly before he turned his back on Mingyu to face the door. “Come on.” At the doorframe, he spun around to still see Mingyu hovered in the alleyway, his big brown eyes staring through the doorway in fear. “You stand out there any longer, Kim, and my Minghao will just pack up his shit up and tell you to fuck off.”

 

It’d felt wrong. So, so wrong. To have had a King Rider in _his_ own shop, to have led one of Seungcheol’s boys through _his_ hallway and into _his_ workroom. To have seen Kim Mingyu’s blazer carefully draped over one of the chairs, the King Rider logo very much visible, and to have watched Mingyu uncuff his white dress shirt sleeve, rolling it all the way up to his shoulder, to reveal his toned and golden arms. A part of Mingyu that Wonwoo would’ve never ever thought he’d see.

 

Wonwoo leaned back in the sofa and had watched, with his arms folded neatly over his chest. Minghao hadn’t spoken a word to Mingyu through it all, not one fucking word. With his mouth shut, he focused on the tattoo that was going to be on Mingyu’s upper arm.

 

Seokmin was the one to keep Mingyu’s thoughts occupied through the whole job, with his sweet smile and innocent words. It was unusual, really; everybody in the gang always brought up the conversation about how Seokmin ended up here, he could make anybody feel at home, even if they were sworn enemies.

 

Sat beside Wonwoo was where Jeonghan stayed, busy making calls between associates, though he didn’t speak too explicitly, not with Mingyu across the room and when he had, Wonwoo would’ve been quick to nudge his side with his elbow.

 

“What the fuck is it anyway?” Wonwoo questioned. He’d raised his voice over Jeonghan’s conversation and the noise from the tattoo gun. The talking between Seokmin and Mingyu had paused and Mingyu looked over to him.

 

“A crown. Only a small one.”

 

Wonwoo frowned, puzzled.

 

“King Riders,” Mingyu clarified.

 

“Of course.” He should’ve known. “You’re positive Seungcheol doesn’t know you’re here, right? I don’t want him on my fucking case.”

 

Mingyu nodded, “I promise.”

 

“I hope you’re aware that this doesn’t change anything between us, and your crew. Don’t expect another favour like this, kid,” Wonwoo threatened as he’d tapped his cigarette to watch the ash fall. “And no one else can know about this.” Aware of his tone, Wonwoo had made sure that when he’d said his last sentence it stuck with Mingyu. So, Wonwoo was conscious of every syllable that had left his lips and made sure each one was sharp and hard.

 

Whilst he held Mingyu’s gaze, he watched the younger’s body shift nervously in the tattoo chair and his broad shoulders tightened. Wonwoo lifted his stare onto Mingyu’s full lips. He was about to part them, perhaps to reply, but the only noise that followed had come from the hallway instead. The front door sounded like it’d been burst open and somebody had tumbled into the shop. Minghao paused his work on Mingyu’s arm, the buzzing in the room stopping completely. That meant that the only sound that could’ve been heard at this point was the commotion in the hallway.

 

Wonwoo got to his feet instantly, along with Jeonghan who exclaimed, “What the _fuck_?!” Initially, Wonwoo’s thoughts had quickly come to the conclusion that it was Seungcheol and in fact, Mingyu had planned this all along and now the King Riders were here to break his fucking spine. It had brought him to reach for the pistol that had been sitting tightly in the holster that sat on the side of his waist. Though he didn’t pull it out ̶ simply brushed his fingers against it for a swift withdraw if needed.

 

“Wonwoo!” Jihoon. That was Jihoon’s voice. Wonwoo removed his hand to his side. Still frozen on his feet, he watched somebody, who was not Jihoon, get shoved into the room, falling onto the hard floor with a thud and a grunt. Hm, he seemed awfully familiar. On his hands and knees, his head was still dipped so Wonwoo was unable to get a look at his face. Yet from the head of straight, light brown hair-that was dishevelled most likely from Jihoon’s force-and his grey suit that had it’s back stitched with the same logo Mingyu had on his own, Wonwoo had no trouble putting a name to the boy.

 

“Seungkwan!” Mingyu yelped, though he couldn’t get out of his chair; Minghao had put down his equipment and pinned him in place. Wonwoo could always trust Minghao’s quick reflexes, he was like a cheetah.

 

“Caught a rat. Seems like this city is just crawling with ‘em lately,” Jihoon announced as he’d entered the room and gestured to Seungkwan who begun to get up again. Jihoon kicked him back down. A shout of disapproval alarmed from Mingyu.

 

One thing that Wonwoo absolutely _hated_ was when something unexpected occurred. One of those things that would’ve caught him off guard and he was going to have to think on his feet for. These were one of those moments that Wonwoo found himself to loathe.

 

“Sit him down,” Wonwoo ordered with the snap of his fingers and without a second to spare, Jihoon followed like an obedient dog. With Mingyu who attempted to shake free from Minghao’s grip, Wonwoo had ordered Seokmin to keep him in place too whilst Jihoon threw Seungkwan onto the barber’s chair across the room from Mingyu. Wonwoo couldn’t forget that he and Mingyu were still enemies. It was strange how in the blink of an eye he could’ve gone from warmly inviting him into his own shop, to ordering his men to subdue him into place. “Of all fucking nights,” Wonwoo whispered to himself. He stepped closer to Seungkwan who slouched back in the chair, glaring up at Wonwoo with not a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

 

Wonwoo hated that. So instead of kneeling down to become eye-to-eye level with Seungkwan like he was going to, he had remained standing. That way, Seungkwan would’ve had to look up at him the whole time, and perhaps it’d help him realise who the bigger fucking man was here.

 

By this point, Wonwoo had guessed that Seungkwan had noticed that one of his brothers was also here, judged by his furrowed brows and confused stare that had never left Mingyu.

 

“What the hell is he doing h-”

 

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll break your fucking neck,” Wonwoo spat, but didn’t shout, yet immediately Seungkwan’s lips closed. He glanced to Jihoon who had stood himself behind the chair, his surprisingly free-of-blood hands rested neatly over the top, above Seungkwan’s head. “What seems to be the problem, then? What is so important that you had to drag this kid all the way to my fucking doorstep?” Wonwoo folded his arms and looked back down to Seungkwan as he awaited Jihoon’s explanation.

 

“I caught him just on the corner when I was on my way back from dealing, Wonwoo. He seemed to be on his way to see you. Won’t tell me what it is, though. But I’m sure you’ll get it outta him,” Jihoon expounded and drummed his fingers on the hard leather. Wonwoo had kept his eyes solely on Seungkwan during and once Jihoon was finished, he raised his brows at Seungkwan, as a signal for him to blurt out his excuse.

 

Not a word.

 

“Am I going to have to pull the answer out of your fucking throat, Seungkwan? Or are you going to spit it out yourself?” Wonwoo threatened in a venomous tone. Truthfully, he knew that Seungkwan wasn’t going to change his mind but he still wanted to try with words first. He counted the silence that had hung in the air and it ended up becoming exactly six seconds before he brought his gaze up to Jihoon and nodded ever so slightly as he lightly spun the chair around so Seungkwan was now facing the smaller man.

 

In the mirror behind Jihoon, Wonwoo managed to catch a glimpse of Seungkwan’s face before Jihoon threw a solid fist to his cheek. Seungkwan had let out a painful groan as his head flew to the side and he brought his hands up to hold his cheek.

 

“Seungkwan!” Mingyu had yelled. Wonwoo tried his best to block him out.

 

“Bring him back,” Wonwoo mumbled his order and wiggled his index finger. Jihoon spun the chair much harder than Wonwoo had but before it could go back around, Wonwoo slammed his hands on the armrests and it came to a halt. Compared to a couple of seconds ago when he’d seen Seungkwan’s face, the only thing that was different this time was the trail of blood that ran down his red cheekbone along with the hatred that pooled in his eyes.

 

“I’m not telling you until you’re the only man in this room, Wonwoo. Beat me all you fucking want,” Seungkwan croaked and his eyes wandered to Mingyu again. There seemed to be a hint of worry in his look towards Mingyu, Wonwoo wanted to know why.

 

Wonwoo tutted, “We’re all family here, Seungkwan. What’s my problem is theirs. I’m afraid you’re going to have to tell me right this fucking instant or you’ll be spinning on this chair till Jihoon beats you until your bleeding from the inside out.” Wonwoo liked to sound unphased by the brutal words that had sometimes left his mouth; the fact that he was comfortable with the idea of pounding somebody’s brains in made him come across as more fearful.

 

“I’ve got all night,” Jihoon snarled next to Seungkwan’s ear as he’d leaned over the chair. Wonwoo shrugged to Seungkwan and folded his arms, leaning back a little, just to show that he wasn’t moving any time soon. From where he’d stood, he could’ve felt Jeonghan not far behind him as well as Seokmin’s and Minghao’s eyes on him as they kept Mingyu restrained. All pressure was on him to break Seungkwan.

 

“Now, you’re going to tell me, Seungkwan,” Wonwoo demanded, his words heavy as they hit Seungkwan hard.

 

Seungkwan sighed deeply. He had given Mingyu one last look before he stared straight up at Wonwoo. “I came here to tell you to get _my_ pot off your fucking streets. All that cash you’ve profited from belongs to me, Wonwoo and I want it all back.” He tapped his chest with his finger, gesturing to himself.

 

Wonwoo chuckled at his nonsense, “There must be some mistake. I think you’ve miscalculated, Seungkwan because I haven’t touched your pot-"

 

“I mean the shit you’ve been pushing Mingyu for. It’s not his, it’s fucking mine. That money is _mine_.”

 

_What the shit?_

 

Wonwoo peered over his shoulder to Mingyu who’d stared straight at Seungkwan with a panicked gaze. “Is this true, Mingyu?” The guilt in Mingyu’s eyes as he’d looked to Wonwoo and nodded hesitantly was so clear that Wonwoo hadn’t known why he’d even bothered to ask. “See, this is why there’s rules that state you shouldn’t make deals with _fucking_ enemies; you always end up being fucked over,” Wonwoo snapped and quickly ran his fingers through his gelled hair. He turned back to face Seungkwan who had been glaring at him the whole time.

 

The air had hung with a heavy silence as Wonwoo contemplated on how he was going to handle the situation. It was tricky; Mingyu had hid the truth from him, though Wonwoo shouldn’t have even started this deal with him in the first place. If he was to punish Mingyu, it’d be quite hypercritical of himself.

 

But Mingyu wasn’t the only one who had broken the rules.

 

Wonwoo exhaled out from his mouth. His neglected cigarette still hung loosely in his hand. “You still crossed onto my turf without permission, Seungkwan. And you know what that means, don’t you?” He placed his hands on the armrests of the chair again and leaned down. Seungkwan had muttered under his breath and so Wonwoo flipped his cigarette and dug the burning tip onto Seungkwan’s hand that had rested on the armrest too. Wonwoo placed his other hand over the top of his so he couldn’t escape the cigarette bud that smoked on his soft skin. The whimpers that’d left Seungkwan’s lips filled the attentive silence of the room.

 

Wonwoo had decided that after a couple of seconds, he’d release his grip, throwing the cigarette onto the ground.

 

“Jihoon.” He spun the chair around to him. This time, Jihoon hadn’t needed any instructions ̶ he began to beat Seungkwan. This time, he was rough and he didn’t stop. Seungkwan’s groans were louder as more of his blood painted Jihoon’s fists.

 

“Get off him!” Mingyu pleaded under Seokmin’s and Minghao’s grip and Wonwoo had never heard him so desperate. He’d figured that to have watched Seungkwan take a beating whilst he couldn’t do of any help was enough of a punishment for Mingyu.

 

Well, that was until Mingyu had thrown Minghao off him and Seokmin’s grip loosened. Wonwoo watched Mingyu rip Jihoon away from Seungkwan and throw a fist straight to his nose. Jihoon’s head swung to the side from the strength of Mingyu and he cursed. Wonwoo was quick to pull Mingyu away from him (as much as he could’ve watched the muscles work in Mingyu’s arms as he threw his punches).

 

He had whispered-quite harshly-into the taller one’s ear as he wrapped his arms around him from behind and dragged him back, slightly forced to raise onto his toes just to reach his ear, “Just take Seungkwan and go. Don’t dare speak of this to Seungcheol or I’ll cut your fucking tongue, Kim Mingyu.” After, he shoved him out into the hallway, followed by Seungkwan, thanks to Jeonghan.

 

Seungkwan’s face dripped with blood, it fell onto his once crisp white shirt that was beneath his blazer jacket, the tips of his bangs were also damp with the same thick, crimson liquid.

 

With a strong finger pointed towards him, Wonwoo said from the doorframe, “And, Seungkwan, if you wanna talk business with me, just schedule a fucking meeting next time.” Seungkwan only scowled in reply and wiped his bloody lip. “See them out, will you, Jeonghan?” Wonwoo looked to Jeonghan who had stood beside him in the doorway. He nodded obediently and ushered the two down the hallway and onto the street.

 

“Run along, kiddies. You’re out of your fucking league here,” Jeonghan snarled before he’d slammed the door shut. Wonwoo dipped his head and pinched the skin between his brows, screwing his eyes tightly shut. “Hand me a fresh fucking cigarette,” he’d groaned. As Jeonghan had walked past, he patted Wonwoo on the shoulder.

 

“Wonwoo hyung…” Seokmin called from behind him. Wonwoo had turned around to face the room again to find Seokmin with a forest green blazer that hung from his fist. “Mingyu has left without it.”

 

 

 

 

 

**_— June -- Seoul –_ ** **_Seongbuk Gu_ **

“Yeah, Junhui isn’t available at the moment but I’ll make sure he knows. Goodbye, sir.”

 

Chan sighed. He put the telephone down for the hundredth time tonight and leaned back in Junhui’s desk chair, stretching his arms in the air and groaning. He should’ve been, but he wasn’t sorry for the mess he’d created in Junhui’s small office room: paperwork was scattered across his desk and hidden underneath, now empty, take-out cartons (he had ordered a take-out as soon as he’d got back into the apartment after watching the van disappear from the street).

 

He had known prior that he would’ve been spending most of his night in this room, doing the work that Junhui wasn’t present for which mostly entailed of answering calls and writing anything down that he would’ve needed to know when he returned, along with replying to any urgent emails Junhui had lying in his inbox, those were usually about the arcade.

 

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have had to do Junhui’s work for too much longer; he suspected they’d be back soon.

 

 _Ring! Ring!_ The telephone had begun to ring again.

 

Chan mumbled a complaint under his breath and sat forward again, reaching across the cluttered desk for the phone. Once he’d placed it to his ear, he spoke, “Who is it?”

 

“Hello? This is Lee Seokmin. Am I speaking to Junhui?” The bright voice said down the line.

 

Chan cleared his throat and quickly switched his tone from bored to formal and alert, “Oh, Seokmin. This is Chan. Junhui is… busy working right now.”

 

Chan heard a noise that sounded like disappointment from Seokmin. “That’s a shame. I was just calling because Wonwoo has decided to make a deal with him. You know, from when he came to speak at the arcade?”

 

“I’ll make a note of it, if you’d like,” Chan had said before scrambling across the desk to grab a pen and a notepad.

 

“Tell Junhui that Wonwoo hyung would like to split his shares with his cocaine business: thirty, seventy. That is if the Neon Boys are willing to offer a hand in distributing. Oh! And he said he’d brought up the topic of switching locations for the monthly meet-ups? He wants to know if Junhui would agree to changing it to somewhere new. I already called Seungcheol up and he said he’d think that was a good idea. Did you get that down?”

 

“Yes,” Chan muttered as the pen scribbled the words onto the note.

 

“Good. Make sure Junhui calls back as soon as he can. Wonwoo hyung would like an answer ASAP. See you ‘round, Chan,” Seokmin was the one to end the call, leaving Chan alone in the silence of the empty apartment again.

 

After he’d put the phone back, he kicked his feet up onto where there was any space on the desk, and let his back sink into the back of the chair. Chewing at his bottom lip, Chan stared at the note he’d written. He was unsure if Junhui was going to accept Wonwoo’s clever offer or not though he knew that he certainly didn’t want him to. There was no way in hell that Chan would’ve let himself _work_ for Jeon Wonwoo—selling his coke.

 

For a few minutes, Chan had sat there and tried to work out the pros and cons of Wonwoo’s offer. Until the phone rang again. Only this time, it was a different ringtone, and it hadn’t come from the phone on Junhui’s desk: it had come from a different room.

 

The tone was unfamiliar to Chan, and it sounded incredibly old fashioned. He planted his feet back onto the wooden floor and pushed the chair around to face the door he’d left open (just in case the King Riders did decide to come so he would’ve been able to hear them). Ears alert, he slipped in and out of every room quite quickly, before the call would’ve ended. It had turned out that the melody was coming from Junhui’s bedroom that he shared with Jisoo.

 

It couldn’t have belonged to Junhui since he would’ve taken his phone with him so Chan headed straight for Jisoo’s area in the room. It was quite plain and tidy even compared to Junhui’s side. Like always Jisoo’s bed was perfectly made and there was absolutely no clutter in sight. As quick as his hands could’ve taken him, Chan looked underneath his pillow, the sheets, on his desk, but before he was able to find the phone, it’d stopped ringing.

 

When he’d sat down on the edge of Jisoo’s bed in defeat, his feet hit the bottom of it, where there were drawers that would’ve pulled out. That was when his childlike curiosity had gotten the better of him. Stepping off the bed again to crouch down in front of it, Chan pulled out the middle drawer. It was stuffed with what had seemed to be spare bedsheets so, he closed it and opened the next one along, to the right. Same had gone for that one.

 

Third time’s a charm. Chan shuffled along to the left and opened the last drawer. Initially, all he’d seen was more bedding but then, he’d caught a glimpse of black against all of the white. He’d begun to dig through the soft sheets with his hands until they brushed against something hard and cold. Eagerly, his fingers gripped onto what felt like the handle and he pulled it out only to reveal that Jisoo had been hiding a gun.

 

His breath hitched. A gun.

 

He inspected the handgun, twisting his wrist to see it from every angle. From the countless crime shows and movies he had watched in his free time, Chan could tell that this wasn’t just any handgun.

 

This was a police issue Glock.

 

Chan ran his index finger along the number that was embedded into the metal slide. A G22—a gun favoured by innumerable law enforcements. With shaky hands, he pulled out the magazine. It was fully loaded.

 

More and more, his hands started to tremble. It wasn’t that he was holding a gun; he was completely used to guns, he even had one on himself at this moment. Anxiety had, in fact, struck him because this gun had done the perfect job of answering his question about Jisoo even though he didn’t want to come to terms with it. So, once he’d fixed the magazine back into place, Chan gently put the gun back in the drawer and closed it warily.

 

He wanted to find more, he wanted to solidify his conclusion whilst he still had time. As he’d took a deep breath, he stood up again and scanned the room. His eyes landed on a black backpack in the corner as it was lying against the tall window that covered the whole length back wall. Tentatively, he ran the zip along the length of the bag and pried it open. There hadn’t seemed to be much in there but what had caught his attention was Jisoo’s wallet. It was a slim, black leather wallet and Chan had opened it to slip out his ID card.

 

He whispered the name that was printed on it, “ _Hong_ Jisoo…” Not _Sun_ Jisoo.

 

That was it. He had seen just enough to believe what he’d been suspecting since the night with Soonyoung, when he’d seen Jisoo speaking to an officer.

 

And, staring straight back at Jisoo’s passport photo, all Chan could feel was sheer betrayal.


	10. Three Dead Bodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end grows nearer........

**_— June -- Seoul –_ ** **_Gangseo Gu_ **

“Sun Jisoo… are you ready?” Junhui’s voice had pulled Jisoo back down to earth, along with his firm hand that gripped his shoulder and squeezed.

 

Whilst Junhui had been occupied in parking the van, Jisoo had let his mind wander as he stared at the abandoned warehouse that they would soon have to enter. It had most certainly looked intimidating with its towering structure that stood like a beast in the darkness of the night and the white brick walls that were now chipped and even missing bricks in places. Jisoo could’ve only imagined what kinds of deals had taken place inside a desolate place like this. Junhui had decided to pull up around the side of the building; Jisoo guessed that parking too close would’ve meant that the men inside would’ve heard them coming.

 

As Jisoo had twisted his head from his window to look at Junhui, he could tell that Junhui was ready to get this over with. His belt was unbuckled, the engine was off and he was currently filling his handgun to the top with rounds, not a tremble in his hands.

 

“C-could you go over what’s about to happen again, please?” Jisoo stammered. He’d felt awkward for making Junhui repeat himself when he was dying to go but Jisoo couldn’t have risked slipping up.

 

As Junhui had forced the magazine back into his gun with a loud click, he sighed and Jisoo flinched at the annoyance in his tone, “You’ve gotta stop fucking daydreaming, Jisoo and stay focused. We can’t fuck this up.” He’d paused to slip the gun inside his bomber jacket, then spoke again, “Seungcheol’s men have already arrived and so has the buyer—I saw the car lights through the door. So, when we see Seungcheol’s guys leave, quickly follow me around the corner and keep fucking quiet. From there on, keep close and have your gun ready. You have the gun I gave you, don’t you?”

 

Jisoo nodded quickly and let Junhui know it was on his hip.

 

“Good. It’ll be pretty straightforward once we get inside. I’m counting on you Sun Jisoo.” Junhui had given Jisoo a look that gripped onto his heart and crushed it; his eyes, they were full of trust. If only Junhui had known: he was putting his trust in the man who would soon betray him...

 

Jisoo hadn’t known what to say and it was almost lucky, in fact, that when the shine of the headlights had caught his eye, he noticed that a pickup truck was driving around the corner. As it’d passed, Junhui cursed and rushed out of the car, Jisoo following along. As fast as his feet could’ve carried him, Jisoo stuck close to Junhui who sprinted around the corner and along the length of the warehouse until they reached the large entrance in the middle. A finger to his lips, Junhui twisted around to look at him and hushed quietly. Jisoo nodded.

 

When he’d stood in the pitch black, clutching to his handgun with ears pricked and listening to the conversation that echoed out from the inside, that was when Jisoo realised: he was fucking terrified.

 

Over time, Jisoo had picked up that Junhui was, often, quite spontaneous. And this situation was a crystal-clear example of his impromptu side. Why, it was only yesterday when Junhui had sat the group down and briefly explained what was going to happen tonight but when Junhui wanted something, he was going to try his best to get it.

 

That was what scared Jisoo the most; how out of the blue this all had seemed, how unprepared and merely planned. He guessed that there was no time for intense planning, like there was in his profession. He was used to working prior to an operation for months on end before actually initiating the infiltration.

 

Nevertheless, now was not the time for worry.

 

He was unable to hear the words that had been spoken from inside, all he heard was mumbles. Fortunately for him, Junhui had been able to hear and almost out of nowhere, he’d snapped his finger with his back to Jisoo, and begun to run inside. Quickly, Jisoo caught back up with him and sprinted swiftly into the warehouse.

 

The floor was scattered with a layer of broken glass and debris. Jisoo listened to the tiny shards of glass that cracked and broke beneath his light steps and he held his breath, praying he and Junhui went unheard. The whole inside of the building was like a rotting carcass stripped from its skin with only a skeletal frame left behind. Tall metal pillars lining the space, long thin pipes framing the ceiling, unwanted, wrecked, mangled furniture lying like dead bodies around the whole width of the room.

 

Jisoo noticed, in the centre, the large black car-seemed to be a Mitsubishi-and the two suited men that were inside. They looked like they were about to leave; the car had just started as soon as Junhui had ordered Jisoo to take out the man in the passenger seat as he’d rushed to the other side to shoot the driver.

 

It all happened so quickly.

 

Junhui had shot first. In such a vast and empty place, the volume of the bullet as it’d left Junhui’s gun was incredibly loud and it pierced through Jisoo’s eardrums. He’d winced, seen the man behind the wheel as his body went limp and it dropped forward, his bleeding head landing on the wheel, and causing the horn to continuously blare.

 

He couldn’t fool around; there was still another man to be taken out. And so, like he’d shamefully done many times before, Jisoo lifted his arm and aimed his gun straight at the passenger’s head. With one tiny movement of his index finger, one movement, one second, another life was taken. This time, the man had fallen to the side and onto the other guy so that he was pushed off the horn, leaving Jisoo and Junhui in _deathly_ silence.

 

Jisoo panted. He dropped his arm, gun pointing to the ground. They’d done it.

 

But of course, that would’ve been too easy. Of course, a price was going to be paid for and Junhui was going to be the one to face it because as Jisoo had watched him from the other side of the car, as he ran around the back to start collecting the guns…

 

There was another gunshot.

 

“Junhui?!” Jisoo had blurted out, over Junhui’s agonising groan, and pulled the slide on his gun back whilst he ran around the back of the vehicle. What he’d saw was what he had hoped he wouldn’t have seen: there was another fucking man. Without another second to waste, Jisoo shot a bullet straight through his head, and his, now lifeless, body collapsed forward onto Junhui who was groaning on the floor.

 

“Shit, thanks a lot Jisoo,” he snapped as he’d angrily thrown the body off from himself with a grunt. He’d sat up with a hand clutched to his chest as it dripped with blood. Jisoo had never been shot before, although a scenario quite similar to this had happened in his previous undercover operation so perhaps, he didn’t seem as panicked as Junhui would’ve been expecting. His gang jacket was now saturated with the deep red that poured from his wound.

 

Jisoo was no stranger to a problem like this; he’d trained through this as an officer. Whilst Junhui had begun to lose more and more blood every second, and his conscious began to fade, Jisoo threw his arm around his shoulder and helped him back to the van that Hansol had drove closer once he’d heard the shots.

 

Jisoo knew what he _should’ve_ done. He should’ve left him to bleed to death, and simply told Hansol one of the men had done it. That was what the department would’ve wanted him to do. Another less man to arrest on _the day._

 

But Jisoo wouldn’t, couldn’t let Junhui die.

 

“What the fuck happened?!” Hansol asked as he’d thrown the back doors open of the van. The kid seemed genuinely afraid as he’d watched Jisoo help his boss into the passenger seat and give him his jacket to press onto his wound. His jacket was a maroon colour, so the blood had almost blended in.

 

“Didn’t realise there was an extra guy,” Jisoo quickly explained, sprinting back into the warehouse to begin collecting the guns with Hansol. When they’d gotten to the back of the car, Hansol spat on the corpse of the second man that Jisoo had killed, the one who shot Junhui.

 

It’d taken a few trips between the two but soon enough, all of the guns were transferred into their own van.

 

“Junhui, what do we do with the bodies?” Jisoo asked. That part he did not have experience in. And it was only beginning to sink in now that he had just killed two men. He, a police officer, had committed the deadliest crime to man. Regardless, now was not the time to have dwelled on these thoughts so, Jisoo listened to Junhui’s instructions.

 

“Put them in the back. Take me to Chan before I bleed out a-and then you and Hansol throw these bodies in the fucking river,” Junhui forced the words from his feeble body. He seemed much paler than he had earlier. That worried Jisoo.

 

“Got it, boss.” Jisoo nodded and left to repeat the directions to Hansol who was already back at the murder scene, chewing at his nails and pacing back and forth.

 

He should’ve expected it. He should’ve expected the bodies to weigh a fucking ton but it had still taken him by surprise when he lifted the legs of the first body as Hansol hooked beneath the arms. The body of the man was dropped inside the back of the van and by the third body, Hansol struggled to get in the back himself.

 

“Will you be okay in the back again? We’ll have to take Junhui back before we can get rid of these,” Jisoo said, gesturing to the disturbing pile of bodies.

 

Hansol nodded. “Whatever, I’ll be okay. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a dead body,” he replied blandly and with that, Jisoo swung the doors shut-and then he opened them again.

 

“Oh, Hansol.” He looked up at Jisoo. “Can you call Chan? Tell him to get three body bags ready.”

 

 

 

There was so much fucking blood: seeped into the leather of the steering wheel, all over his clothes, his hands, Junhui, the seats, the gear stick—Jisoo had never seen so much of it in his life.

 

It was a good thing that Jisoo had paid attention when Junhui had drove them to Gangseo-gu because he was just about able to figure out the way back. Nevertheless, the journey had been a tedious one. First, Jisoo had had to warm up to the format of the van but along with that Junhui had shown signs that he was going to pass out, perhaps from the pain or the blood loss, or the shock, and Jisoo was forced to keep him focused on his voice until they would get back.

 

Back at the apartment, Hansol had gotten into the blood-stained passenger seat whilst Chan came out to help Jisoo in getting Junhui inside. By that point, Junhui’s body was limp, and his head hung low as the two dragged him through the complex, making sure no trace of blood was dropped.

 

“The bullet’s still in there, Chan. You’re gonna have to get it out,” Jisoo grunted his words as they’d sat Junhui down on a chair in the kitchen area.

 

“I know what I’m doing, hyung. Just get the fucking body bags and go,” Chan spat. Jisoo frowned and watched the younger as he’d rushed to one of the cabinets, extending onto his tip-toes to reach the first aid box. He decided to put Chan’s temper down to the fact they were in quite a stressful situation. So, without another word, Jisoo picked up the body bags beside the door and left, closing the door and shutting out Junhui’s painful groans.

 

On his way back out of the apartment, Jisoo had decided to leave the way they’d entered, just to make sure that Junhui’s blood hadn’t fell onto the floor. He’d realised that there’d be footage on the cameras and that only struck more fear.

 

Back at the van, Hansol peered out the window impatiently as Jisoo had sprinted closer.

 

“Where to?” He’d asked as Jisoo climbed back in, twisting the keys, with his bloody hands, to start the engine again.

 

One thing he’d never thought he’d be saying was, “Han river. Let’s get rid of these bodies.”

 

 

It had been one thing to say they were going to dispose of the bodies but actually doing it was another thing. And it was at that point, when Jisoo was taking a gun from one of the men he’d killed, that he’d realised how much trouble he was in.

 

There were two options when it came to homicide in an undercover operation: the first choice is that agent could refuse which would perhaps blow their cover and get them killed.

 

The second choice: they could be charged with murder.

 

It was very much clear what option Jisoo had chosen, even if in the moment, it’d never crossed his mind. As he’d zipped up the body bag over the face of the body, his hands had begun to tremble. He listened to the splash as Hansol had thrown the first body in. It’d definitely been a long night—Jisoo was forced to drive the van into the Rocket’s district, Seongdong-gu so they were able to reach Han river. Because it was such a popular attraction in Seoul, they’d also had to find a quitter area for the despicable deed to be done. So, it was safe to say that when Jisoo had lifted the body with Hansol, he’d almost felt too exhausted to do so, especially with the bricks they’d added in order for the body to have sunk instead of possibly floated along for all of the tourists to see later.

 

Hansol grunted whilst he had his hands wrapped around the ankles. Jisoo had held his breath through the whole thing. He had turned away once the body was chucked into the water; he couldn’t have watched it.

 

Once the last corpse was disposed of, Hansol dusted his hands and sighed. Jisoo watched him: he hadn’t seemed phased at all.

 

“Are you sure no one will find them here?” Jisoo asked as they’d made their way back to the van.

 

“I’m positive, man,” the younger said. Once Jisoo had gotten back inside the vehicle and closed the door, Hansol asked from the passenger seat, “Why? Are you worried the cops will find ‘em?”

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

Hansol snorted, “No. The cops around here have got nothing on us.”

 

 

As soon as Jisoo had gotten back to the apartment, he wasted no time in rushing to the bathroom to wash the blood from his hands. The red stain reminded him of the murderer he was. He watched as the scarlet water disappeared down the plughole, and the pale skin of his hands returned from underneath the layer of blood that had hidden it. When he’d turned off the tap and lifted his head to look into the mirror, he caught sight of a figure in the doorway behind him.

 

“Is this the first time you’ve killed a man… or two?” Junhui asked and he stepped closer. Jisoo, improvised, and nodded quietly, turning around to face him. “I can tell.” Even in the darkness, Jisoo noticed Junhui’s face was dull and his lips were a paler pink, it was clear he’d lost a lot of blood.

 

“Are you okay?” Jisoo asked, glancing to the white bandage on his chest that peaked out from his loose t-shirt.

 

“I’ll live.” Junhui smiled softly. “You’ll be surprised by Chan’s knowledge on treating gunshot wounds,” he chuckled. The look that Chan had shot at Jisoo earlier flashed in his mind again and he broke eye contact with Junhui. “You worked well today, Jisoo.” Junhui patted his hand on Jisoo’s shoulder and he caught his gaze again. “I knew I’d made the right decision in bringing you into this gang.” It’d hurt Jisoo greatly to listen to the sincerity in Junhui’s voice and witness the pure trust in his eyes.

 

“I think I’ll be getting some rest now, Junhui.” Jisoo parted with a small smile and left Junhui in the bathroom. As he’d shuffled through the apartment, it was silent. He’d guessed that Hansol had went straight to bed along with Chan though when he’d entered his own bedroom, he wasn’t alone.

 

“Jesus Christ, Chan,” he sighed, his hand flying to his heart. Chan didn’t say a word, only rushed to close the door and grab Jisoo by the collar of his jacket before throwing him onto the hard floor. “Chan! What the-” Jisoo was cut off by Chan’s hand over his mouth as he’d leaned over him. Jisoo looked up at Chan with wide eyes—he’d never seen so much rage in the boy.

 

“I fucking know who you are,” Chan spat. Jisoo watched him pull out a gun from his jacket. Jisoo’s breath hitched when he felt the coldness of the weapon dig into the side of his head. “Hong Jisoo.”

 

Shit.

 

“I trusted you,” the younger whimpered. Jisoo felt his grip on the gun loosen along with his hand on his lips, watching the tears form in Chan’s glistening eyes. He knew Chan didn’t want to shoot him; Chan was just a kid but he was a fucking smart one. “Hyung,” another soft whimper left his mouth. He’d let go of the gun, letting it drop to the floor, and removed his small hand from Jisoo’s lips. “They trust you,” his voice faded into a small whisper. Jisoo sat up as Chan had shuffled back, sitting on his knees.

 

He didn’t know what to say. Never in his operations had Jisoo been caught out before. Therefore, he’d had no idea how to approach this situation. He’d been warned that if an agent was to be caught out, it would’ve usually resulted in death. But Jisoo wasn’t dead yet.

 

His eyes, still wide, scanned the ground. His lips parted and nothing left them but a faint murmur, “H-how…”

 

“I saw you speaking to some cops the night of the car meetup and I knew something wasn’t right. I found your ID and your gun-”

 

Jisoo knew what had to be done: in one swift motion, he took advantage of Chan’s state and picked up the handgun that he had left beside him and raised to his feet, quickly aiming the gun at the younger’s head as he’d stayed kneeling on the bedroom floor. There were still some things that this kid had to learn—like keeping his gun close to him at all times. Jisoo didn’t want to shoot Chan and that had been partly why his hand started to tremble around the gun. Still, he’d had to get his point across somehow.

 

“You tell a fucking soul, Chan, and I’ll kill you with your own gun. I’ll put one of your own bullets straight through your skull.” Jisoo hated how the words sounded as they’d left his lips. It was important that he’d made sure that his voice was still hushed enough in order for Junhui not to have heard from the living room.

 

Chan’s whole demeanour had changed once the gun was pointed at himself. The younger was frozen, taking short and shallow breaths, seemingly terrified to move a muscle. He’d stared up at Jisoo like a hare would at the receiving end of a fox’s open jaws: huge, twinkling brown eyes completely brim-full with panic and terror. It was like the young scared child had been brought out in him again. And when he’d parted his lips, Jisoo’s grip on the gun tightened. “But,” he breathed, “What are you gonna do with us? I have to tell Junhui hyung or I’d just be killing us all.” Jisoo watched the tears begin to slowly stream down Chan’s cheeks once he’d blinked.

 

Jisoo sighed. “I can’t tell you what my duty is… but.” He paused to think for a moment. Was he seriously going to do this? There was something about Chan that made Jisoo unable to think about throwing him into a prison full of men that would most likely eat him up in a fucking second. Granted, Chan was strong, yet he was no match for the type of criminals that were behind bars. “As long as you keep your mouth shut… the next meetup...”

 

“don’t go.”

 

Chan’s shoulders dipped, his brows furrowed. “What?”

 

“I can’t fucking save you all but you, Chan, only you. I could lose my job for this but you deserve a better life.” The line between right and wrong had become blurred for Jisoo. This operation in particular had confused him immensely; he’d grown _fond_ of these boys and cared about their feelings more than he had for any other criminal he’d worked beside undercover. There was still an innocence with this gang that Jisoo hadn’t ever seen before.

 

He watched Chan’s eyes flicker as he’d battled with the thoughts in his mind. “I-I don’t know, hyung,” he stammered.

 

Jisoo dropped Chan’s gun on the floor and let it slide along to the boy. “Think about it. Just trust me, Chan.”

 

 

 

**_— June -- Seoul –_ ** **_Gangnam Gu – Diamond Edge_ **

Of all emails Seungcheol would’ve liked to receive this early in the morning, it certainly wasn’t this one. A curse had violently slipped from his lips as he furiously scrolled back to the top to re-read the message. He knew why he was sent an email instead of being informed in person; the men who’s job it had been were too fucking afraid of Seungcheol to face him. And they had been right to think so, especially in with such situations. He fucking hated emails like this one: why couldn’t it just be straight to the point? He’d almost had to read between the lines just to understand what had went wrong. And when he eventually figured what the problem was, he knew he wasn’t at all mistaken. On his desk, his hand tightened into a whitened fist, and once he’d heard a knock at his door, his jaw tensed.

 

“Come in,” he directed through gritted teeth.

 

With enthusiasm, the door had opened and the first to enter was Soonyoung, then Mingyu and Seungkwan closely followed afterwards. Like always, Soonyoung looked sharpest and brightest with Seungkwan usually following in second.

 

“Morning, hyung,” he chirped. Normally Soonyoung’s energy wouldn’t have been a problem to Seungcheol yet this morning, he wasn’t in no such mood for smiles and warm greetings.

 

“Just sit down and listen, Soonyoung,” he snapped, clicking his finger and pointing to the armchair placed in front of his desk. Mingyu and Seungkwan had stood neatly on each side of the chair. Seungcheol’s gaze naturally fell on Seungkwan’s face and he asked strongly, “What happened, Seungkwan?” Immediately, Seungkwan’s head ever so slightly turned to Mingyu. Mingyu nodded gently after a brief moment of thought. Seungcheol’s eyes followed every move that his men made before him.

 

Seungkwan cleared his throat and he’d kept his eyes on his shoes. “I did what you asked for, hyung. It’s just… it didn’t end particularly how I’d planned it to end,” Seungkwan had spoken ever so quietly. It was unnatural to have seen him in such a manner, head low, voice shaky and eyes too afraid to have met with Seungcheol’s own.

 

Seungcheol let a sigh pass his lips. “What was his answer?” He asked, still aware that Mingyu didn’t know Seungcheol knew about his situation. Yet from the look he’d given Seungkwan, he questioned that.

 

“That to get an answer I must schedule a meeting with him-”

 

“Fucking kid always has to get his way,” Seungcheol spat and tapped his index finger on the surface of the table quite rapidly as he made a decision. “Tomorrow, _I_ will speak to him tomorrow evening. Not you, Seungkwan,” he concluded, bringing the tapping to a halt. It was the meetup tomorrow—that was the closest he was going to get to a decent and fair meeting with Wonwoo, not to mention safe as well.

 

Seungkwan lifted his head quickly. “But hyung, it won’t exactly be private.”

 

“I don’t give a shit, Seungkwan. The whole of Seoul can know that Wonwoo exploits my men if it means he’ll fucking _stop_.” He glanced to Mingyu. He hadn’t seemed phased. Seungkwan must’ve told him. “There’s much more to address this meeting, so let’s move on,” Seungcheol sighed as he’d opened up the email again with the click of the mouse. He’d decided to shift to the subject that was getting to him the most, a bluebottle that buzzed around his head all morning that he was dying to kill and rid from his mind. “The men that I sent off last night to deliver some guns have addressed to me this morning that the trade was not successful. The buyers, every fucking one of ‘em, were shot and killed by Junhui and his goddam men. They’ve got the guns now.”

 

Soonyoung cursed harshly under his breath and slammed his palm on the arm of the chair. His cheerful manner had switched rather swiftly to a far darker one. His razor-sharp eyes flooded with fury as he snarled, “What men did you give the job of trading our guns? I think they need their fucking heads sliced off.” Soonyoung was always one with quite a short temper, and a violent mind when his patience was gone.

 

“It wasn’t a hard job. I’d warned them to scan the area beforehand. Clearly, they hadn’t. I will speak to them. But there are other men we must deal with first: The Neon Boys.”

 

“How did they find out?” Mingyu asked firmly, finally opening his lips for the first time Seungcheol had seen him this morning. There was less anger in Mingyu’s eyes compared to the other two. Mingyu had remained quiet, and calm, head forward, mouth shut, and broad shoulders straight and still.

 

“Junhui has eyes everywhere, Mingyu. You of all people should know that.” Seungcheol couldn’t help himself for the clever comment. It wasn’t that he hadn’t forgiven Mingyu for what he’d done, he just found it enjoyable to tease the boy. And the joy had struck when he watched Mingyu close his lips, frowning at the floor. His hands, that were neatly folded in front of him, shuffled quickly. Seungcheol chuckled, along with Soonyoung and Seungkwan—sometimes it was too easy to catch Mingyu out.

 

“So, what’re we gonna do about this? I mean, we can’t let Junhui get away with it,” Soonyoung said, tilting his head to the side to let it rest on his hand. Seungcheol leaned back in his chair and shifted his gaze back to the email, letting the possibilities run through his mind.

 

“Tomorrow will be a busy night, by the looks of it.” His eyes had remained on the screen, though he heard the men before him shuffle in their places and when he did look at their faces, the slight worry in them hadn’t gone unnoticed. The only difference between Seungcheol and his men was that: Seungcheol knew how to perfectly hide his nerves.

 

“Do you think this will all go according to plan? Y’know, in that meetup, every single man is their own ticking time bomb,” Soonyoung brought up, significantly quieter than before.

 

“I’ll speak to Wonwoo and Junhui in the middle at first. I have my ways to keep the air between us calm enough. Just don’t fucking lost control tomorrow, Soonyoung. Don’t forget that you’re always the ticking time bomb that goes first.”

 

Soonyoung nodded hesitantly and sunk in his seat.

 

“The new location is an unused office building. You men better listen to me tomorrow. This meeting will be significantly more important, so be on your best behaviour. Now, work hard,” Seungcheol dismissed and watched as the three had bowed slightly before leaving, like schoolchildren who were dismissed by their teacher.

 

 

For the rest of the day, Seungcheol had planned to simply spend most of it in his office, replying to emails, making deals among the phone, checking that his bar was in working order. There was also the job of figuring out what he was going to say to Wonwoo and Junhui tomorrow, to make sure he wouldn’t forget any important details. Every now and again, there would’ve been a polite knock at his door and after inviting them inside, it would usually be an employee from the bar, or occasionally Soonyoung as he would’ve visited between errands mostly to come and irritate Seungcheol.

 

This time, there was an unfamiliar knock at the door, and the person on the other side hadn’t even waited for Seungcheol to speak, they simply slipped through the door and closed it gently.

 

“Hello, sir,” the sweet voice spoke with the utmost confidence, forcing Seungcheol to look at them.

 

“Jeonghan?!” Seungcheol shot up from his chair, ultimately stunned to see a Rocket in his own office. And of all Rockets: Yoon Jeonghan. “What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in? You shouldn’t be here!”

 

Jeonghan pushed his finger onto his own pink lips and hushed. “Secrets.” He smirked, clearly proud to have puzzled Seungcheol.

 

Seungcheol cleared his throat, tidying up his black blazer and deepening his voice, “You know you shouldn’t be here, Jeonghan. Whatever it is, I’m positive it can wait until tomorrow’s meeting,” he denounced and had begun to usher Jeonghan back to the door, hand warily on the male’s back.

 

Jeonghan did not follow orders, and gripped onto Seungcheol’s tie with eagerness. “I can’t stop thinking about you, sir,” he whispered into Seungcheol’s ear as they stopped. Seungcheol’s heart started to thump hard against his chest once the heat of Jeonghan’s breath had hit his ear. He felt him brush past his shoulder and stroll back into the middle off the room again. Seungcheol spun around and watched him as he ran his finger along the wood of the desk. “This isn’t how I imagined your office to look. It sure is… elegant.” He smiled and slid himself on top of the desk, eyes wandering the room. “You know, I’d be the best secretary you _ever_ had. Do you have one?”

 

_This man had nerve._

“Jeonghan, you know we can’t do this. If there’s something of importance you’d like to discuss then make it quick,” Seungcheol said, deepening his voice another octave lower to test if it’d frighten Jeonghan: it hadn’t.

 

“I was sent by Wonwoo to give this to Mingyu, actually. Thought the kid might want it y’know, cause they’re his colours.” Jeonghan brought his arm from behind his back where he was holding a green blazer—Mingyu’s jacket. “Though he doesn’t seem to be around. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

 

Even though Seungcheol knew that Wonwoo had a tight hold on Mingyu, he didn’t see why handing drugs over also meant forgetting his jacket…?

 

“He won’t be back till gone midnight. You’d be wasting your time waiting that long,” Seungcheol uttered, making his way closer with his hands in his pockets. Once he was a step away from Jeonghan who was swinging his legs on the desk, he stopped. Jeonghan shrugged and tilted his head.

 

“I guess you can give it to him, then,” he muttered and slipped off the desk, leaving the blazer on there, keeping his stare on Seungcheol. As Jeonghan walked to the door again, Seungcheol suck close behind him, to make sure this time he was going to leave.

 

Swiftly, he stopped at the door and turned to face Seungcheol.

 

They were awfully close.

 

Jeonghan pushed up onto his toes to speak softly into Seungcheol’s ear again, “I wanted to kiss you the last time we stood this close.” Then, he fell back onto his feet and mused at Seungcheol’s features. Seungcheol could’ve heard his heart now, and helplessly, his own eyes wandered down to Jeonghan’s lips—shining and open, slightly revealing his pure white teeth. He couldn’t help but wet his own lips, taking in Jeonghan’s almost feminine and delicate fragrance. “Do you want to kiss me now, sir?” He breathed.

 

Seungcheol swallowed hard. Breathing had become short and shallow. He knew this was so incredibly wrong but he couldn’t stop it once Jeonghan slowly pulled himself closer to Seungcheol’s lips, eyes only half open as he’d stopped once their lips were nothing but an inch away from each other. Seungcheol did not move. Jeonghan’s heated breath brought his lips to tingle from the warmth.

 

The male edged closer to touch yet Seungcheol couldn’t. And just before Jeonghan’s lips had made contact with his own, Seungcheol brought his hands up and placed them on Jeonghan’s chest, gently shoving him away. Jeonghan stumbled back with a huff, Seungcheol watched his temptation slip farther away.

 

“You know we can’t, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol sighed. The younger in the red leather jacket brought his hand to his face to push a lock of hair out of his eyes.

 

Before leaving the room, Jeonghan replied, “I know. There’re rules. But _you_ should know: I’m a treasure chest when it comes to secrets, and only I have the key. For you Seungcheol, I’d keep that key safe. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

 

 

 

**_— June -- S_ ** _**eoul -- Seongbuk Gu** _

By afternoon, Hansol was exhausted, more mentally than physically. A worry had been scratching at his mind all day and completely worn him out. Everything he did had a way of triggering the thoughts: washing the blood from Junhui’s clothes, storing the new guns in the basement of the arcade, helping Chan in changing Junhui’s dressing. They all took him back to last night.

 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all fault—it was his fault that Junhui suffered a mean bullet to the chest, almost hitting his heart and killing him there and then. He should’ve hidden and kept watch, or assisted his boss and Jisoo, or just been of any fucking help at all instead of waiting in the back of the van and being utterly useless to his hyungs. He took it very hard upon himself, though he tried to look on the plus side; they’d gotten the guns, Junhui was alive, and Seungcheol’s men didn’t come to snap Chan in half like a frail twig. That was all that mattered.

 

The apartment seemed empty. Hansol had only just returned after storing the guns away. It was mid-afternoon and he already yearned for a deep sleep. He felt drained, empty, sluggish, like everything was in slow motion, like everything was spinning… like something was missing. He knew. He hadn’t gotten high in several days, and he’d been so busy that he hadn’t had the time to put Seungkwan’s new _free gift_ to use.

 

Running a hand through his light hair, Hansol trudged to his and Chan’s bedroom, knowing exactly what he was going to search for. He’d been so busy recently, he couldn’t remember where he’d left it. There was a potential is was still lying in the pocket of his dress pants.

 

Though upon having opened the door, to his surprise, there seemed to be something of greater importance he had to take care of.

 

Chan.

 

The boy was sat on the end of his bed with his head dipped sorrowfully in his hands, sniffling quietly, his sobs almost inaudible. It was scarce for Hansol to have seen Chan like this - upset and broken down. Usually, he was clever at locking his emotions away, keeping them hidden from his outward appearance.

 

He had tread lightly across the room, past his own bed until he reached the foot of Chan’s where he was sat. Almost silent, were his footsteps; he’d felt as if he made too much noise, Chan would’ve shattered.

 

“Chan…?” Hansol spoke as gentle as he could’ve, which was quite easy considering he was already exhausted and unable to have mustered the energy to speak any louder. He observed from above and Chan’s head slowly rose so he could look into those glistening, bloodshot eyes. They reflected exactly how he must’ve felt: the dark grey rings under his eyes, they were puffy, red, wet from what seemed to be an endless stream of tears. He was truly distraught.

 

Hansol knew, not what to say, but what to do.

 

Without the slightest murmur, he sat himself beside Chan, and tenderly placed a hand on the middle of his small back, slightly rubbing up and down. He decided to wait until Chan spoke himself, instead of forcing him into anything.

 

“I’m so sorry, Hansol,” he whimpered and threw his tear-soaked face back into his trembling hands.

 

He could pinpoint the moment—the moment that he felt his heart fragment into a million tiny little pieces and dissolve into darkness. This boy did not deserve to hurt like this, whatever it was.

 

“Chan, are you sure the King Riders didn’t come last night?” He asked carefully and gazed worryingly at the younger. Hansol feared that Seungcheol’s men, in fact, did break in and do something, what it be blackmail, threaten, traumatise, hurt. But he prayed this wasn’t the case.

 

Chan shook his head, hiccupping quietly and refusing to look Hansol in the eyes.

 

“Is it Junhui? Are you worried about hyung?” Hansol asks, rubbing his hand a little more on his back for comfort. Because you know you did a perfect job on his chest.”

 

“How long can we last, Hansol?” Chan unexpectedly asked.

 

Hansol wasn’t expecting such a question, and he blurted in reply, “W-what do you mean?”

 

“I mean.” The younger wiped a tear. “What do you think it will take for us to perish? How much longer can this go on? I mean, we can’t live like this forever, can we? I don’t wanna be stuck in this cycle of working for others and hanging on the edge of death.”

 

“I… I don’t know, Chan. I guess my mind is more in the present.” Hansol was stunned; he had never thought that Chan was one to think so intensely on these matters. “Has somebody told you something-”

 

“No.”

 

Hansol wasn’t often one to initiate intimacy but today, it was all he had. Cautiously, he wrapped his arms lovingly around Chan’s frame, resting his head on Chan’s shoulder as Chan did the same on Hansol’s. The boy’s fingers dug into Hansol’s back as his grip grew tighter, and his sobs grew louder. Hansol didn’t know exactly the reason his friend was sad, nevertheless, it brought himself to well up. Purely hearing the sheer pain and despair in Chans cries could rupture Hansol from the inside out. His vision blurred as the tears built, but he refrained them from falling; he wanted to keep strong for Chan, a faithful beacon intended for him.

 

As he blinked the tears away, he noticed, over Chan’s shoulder, his dress pants that were strewn across his bed. But he didn’t let go. He didn’t let Chan leave his embrace until the sobs quietened, until the pain faded from within Chan, and his tears no longer soaked Hansol’s shirt.

 

Chan was his brother, perhaps not literally, but figuratively. Hansol loved Chan as if he was _family_.

 

Chan slowly leaned out of Hansol’s arms, sniffing with a timid expression. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said with a small, difficult laugh.

 

“Don’t be sorry, stupid,” Hansol reassured and ruffled his hand through Chan’s hair. “You needed that.”

 

Chan’s lips curved into a shy little smile. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed, before standing to his feet and looking down on Hansol.

 

“You’re really strong, Hansol. Don’t let that change,” he said solemnly. He didn’t blink. Hansol looked up in confusion and when Chan turned to walk away, he grabbed his wrist to stop him.

 

Hansol asked, “Why?”

 

“Just keep fighting,” Chan simply answered and then, he left the room. Hansol watched the door close shut. He sighed.

 

Hansol didn’t see himself as strong. He wondered what Chan saw in him because in his own eyes, being unable to beat the addiction to drugs didn’t seem particularly strong, along with his failure to have saved Junhui, and the fact that he was always breaking the rules to see Seungkwan.

 

Hansol firmly ran his fingers through his hair and gripped tightly at the locks. He was fucking worried; there was something going on with Chan that Hansol was unaware of.

 

Lifting his head again, he trudged to his side of the room to pick up his dress pants he had been eyeing just earlier. His hand dug through the pockets until he felt that awfully familiar material of the mini resealable bag. Though what wasn’t familiar, what the substance inside of it—it was hard, solid even, and small. Was it a pill? Hansol pulled it out of the pocket to inspect.

 

 _Shit_.

 

A fucking piece of candy. Hansol clenched his jaw and read the sharpie message written neatly on the clear material, _‘I'm sorry. I love you, forgive me’._ That was why Seungkwan refused any pay. Hansol sat down on his bed and stared at the packet, trying to work out why. Was Seungkwan running low these days? If he was, why didn’t he just tell the truth? Was he afraid of hurting Hansol, or Hansol lashing out, or ratting him out?

 

His eyes gradually travelled over the words again.

 

“I love you,” he recited Seungkwan’s message quietly to himself and opened the bag to take the candy between his fingers and place it in his mouth. The sweetness on his tongue – he hadn’t tasted that in forever. “I forgive you.”


	11. Flipside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE FINALE !!!  
> Strap yourself in... and bring tissues.  
> Tysm for reading!

_**— June -- Seoul -- Seongbuk Gu -- Moon Arcade** _

Seungkwan was on a secret mission. No-body knew that he was here and hopefully, no-body ever would apart from the individual he intended on finding. There was one person specifically that Seungkwan was practically risking his life for today. Junhui’s arcade was almost always thriving with visitors, day or night, so Seungkwan hadn’t had to worry about it being too sparse in here for him to be spotted. He slinked through the people like he was a fox at night. And his cover-up was a huge dark hoodie that hung from his body. He had thrown it over his suit in a hurry and pulled up the hood. Hiding his face was a black mask from his nose to his chin.

 

Every room he could’ve reached, each floor, every corner Seungkwan searched intensely. Eventually, he found himself off his guard, ambling around just anticipating for the face that he wanted to appear before him. It was after an extensive and testing forty minutes or so when Seungkwan had finally found him. For a moment, he had completely forgotten where he was and pulled his mask beneath his chin, along with tugging his hood off his head. Here his objective was: on the second floor, in the right side of the building where it was mostly quiet and discreet, not particularly a place where visitors would’ve wandered. Seungkwan had roamed down this desolate hallway with a dead end when he saw the boy leaving the staff room and closing the door behind him.

 

“Hansol!” He called and rushed down to him.

 

Hansol reacted as if Seungkwan was carrying a grenade in his hand: he grabbed him by his arm. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?!” He shoved Seungkwan harshly into the supply closet at the end of the hallway, slamming the door shut. Seungkwan fell into the shelves, creating a racket. “How did you get through the arcade without being fucking murdered?!” Hansol interrogated and stared Seungkwan down with the sharpest glare. Seungkwan couldn’t hide the pleased smirk on his lips, he was admittedly proud of himself to have somehow made it this far. Though Hansol’s lips remained curled back with anger. It made Seungkwan _hot_.

 

After having found his balance again and whilst brushing himself down, he replied, “Look, let me explain, Hansol-”

 

“Don’t,” Hansol quickly interfered and slammed Seungkwan’s back against the back wall, which forced a painful groan from his, no longer smiling, lips. “I know exactly what you’re gonna say.”

 

Seungkwan’s brows knitted together. He copied Hansol’s forceful act and placed his hands on the boy’s chest. With all of the force in him, Seungkwan had shoved Hansol until his back hit the closed door. As it was Hansol’s turn to groan, it was Seungkwan’s turn to snarl in his ear, “Then let me fucking say it.”

 

Once Hansol had calmed somewhat, Seungkwan took one step back from him and carried on in a tone less hostile, “I’m here to apologise and uh, explain. I know it was a dick move but-”

 

“Yeah, it was a pretty dick move, Seungkwan! You would never do that to any of your other customers. So why me? Handing me fucking sweeties like I’m six-years-old,” Hansol ranted in a low, impactful voice that coursed straight through Seungkwan’s whole body in such a tiny room. In hindsight, he should’ve seen this coming. He should’ve expected to receive such rage from Hansol.

 

“Shit, I did it to help you, Hansol!” He fiercely whisper-yelled back without a tinge of fear; it was clouded by his fury towards the younger.

 

Hansol scoffed, “No, you did it because you don’t want any guilt on your conscious. If I go ill in my body _or_ my head, you’d blame yourself, and you don’t want that. Am I right? You don’t wanna take the blame.” He pushed Seungkwan, lighter this time, forcing Seungkwan only a few steps backwards.

 

As Hansol walked closer, Seungkwan hurled a sharp hand across Hansol’s cheek. It was a powerful hit, and the clap resonated in the small room of the supply closet. If anybody was outside, they would’ve certainly heard it. The taller boy’s head had bolted to the side, and he held where Seungkwan had stricken.

 

“You fucking bitch,” Seungkwan growled and shook the new tingling pain from his hand. “You aren’t right at all. I did it because I really care for you, Hansol…” he began to mumble his words as they became more revealing and personal, and he slightly dipped his head. Was he really going to say it? Fuck it, yes, he was. If he wasn’t going to say it now, when was he?

 

“And I think I love you.”

 

Holy shit, he was so stupid—admitting his love to an enemy, and prior to slapping him in the face! Did he really just let the words fall from his lips so carelessly? He was sure to be in immense trouble.

 

Or was he?

 

When Hansol hadn’t said a word for over four seconds, Seungkwan grew enquiring. He glanced up again. Clueless, he watched Hansol remove his hand from his reddened cheek and silently step even closer until his face was a few mere centimetres apart. Seungkwan stopped dead. Hansol was about to beat the shit outta him, he knew it, oh, he could feel the pain of Hansol’s balled fist on his face already. He didn’t have any time to defend or prepare himself…

 

Not when Hansol’s lips crushed against his own.

 

It was unexpected but hot, and bursting with so much tension and rage, it was as if this was Hansol’s bizarre method of getting back at Seungkwan. But Seungkwan let himself kiss back with just as much roughness. He rushed his right hand to Hansol’s head to work his fingers through his hair and grabbed tightly, tugging. Meanwhile, Hansol pulled the mask over Seungkwan’s head and threw it onto the ground. He drove Seungkwan into the back wall again yet second time around, he was harder. It had almost bashed the air out of Seungkwan’s lungs, and he whimpered feebly into Hansol’s parted lips.

 

“You’re my drug,” Hansol avowed through a breath and it brought Seungkwan to snake his left leg up Hansol’s right. Hansol kissed Seungkwan with such a burning desire that Seungkwan could’ve almost felt his lips on fire. Already, they were puffy and tingling.

 

“Well, I come at a price,” he purred and bit Hansol’s bottom lip in return.

 

Hansol stopped and took a step back. “Price?” He questioned between loud breaths with a new uncertainty on his face. So quickly the room had grown unbelievably heated and stuffy.

 

Seungkwan nodded as he wiped his lips and straightened his hoodie by tugging at the bottom.

 

“Our guns.”

 

“You-” Hansol sighed like a dragon puffing smoke, and spun to face the door, shaking his head, and turned around again. “Bold.”

 

The impatience crept back into the room and Seungkwan followed in Hansol’s footsteps. “You guys had no right to take ‘em in the first place. We want them returned,” he demanded and grabbed the neckline of Hansol’s shirt to pull him closer again. The boy’s warm breath snuck down Seungkwan’s neck.

 

“Half of them are traded already, Seungkwan. What’s the point?” A suggestion of request for forgiveness was distinct in his deep voice. And Seungkwan simply could not overlook it.

 

“Fine. Seungcheol will want me back to prepare for the meetup soon but, before I go…” he huffed and pulled Hansol even closer to brush his lips against his ear and whisper, “Just fuck me.”

 

 

 

_**— June -- Seoul -- Seongbuk Gu** _

Pure terror—it coursed through his body, dark and cold. It reached every part of him: from his legs that bounced, hands that trembled terribly, or throat and lungs as the substance wrapped its icy hands around the organs, clutching awfully tight. It plagued him. It _paralyzed_ him yet he _couldn’t_ keep still. Jisoo edged himself on his bed, head in hands. The deathly silence was eating away at him like a vulture with a fresh carcass. The anticipation, the dread… the waiting.

 

And when the wait was finally over at the sudden ringing of his phone, Jisoo’s whole body jumped and he swore his heart leaped up his throat. His shaky hands scrambled for the old mobile that was neatly placed beside him on the bed.

 

Almost in an instant once the phone was pressed to his ear, a voice asked, “Are you ready, detective Hong?”

 

Jisoo clutched the phone firmly in his clammy hand, shrouded in the darkness of the bedroom. _Ready_. There would have never been a time when Jisoo would be ready for these moments. Absolutely nothing on this earth could’ve prepared Jisoo for what he was about to do tonight. Nothing.

 

Nevertheless, he mustn’t have let it show, “Yeah, I’m ready myself. Is the team?” He asked in a hushed voice, and kept his eyes sharp on the door. He’d felt like a teenager who was smoking weed for the first time in his bedroom, and was acting like a cat on a hot tin roof because he didn’t want his mother to catch him. Determinedly on edge.

 

“Of course. The squad is currently on their way to the location, nearly all of ‘em on duty today for this. You know the drill: they’ll go when _they_ think the time is right. No hesitating.”

 

Jisoo sighed heavily. “I can’t believe the day has finally come. Twelve men soon to be arrested tonight—the most we’ve ever caught in one job,” he stated, even though he half doubted his statement; there was still a possibility there would only be eleven in handcuffs. If Chan was successful.

 

“Speaking of, have you got anymore information we should know about before this happens? Absolutely anything urgent at all?”

 

Jisoo racked his brain for a few quick seconds before he answered, “Not really. Junhui managed to obtain the guns, one shot to the chest so he may be weak but he is still attending.”

 

“Agent.” Jisoo hummed a yes and the officer proceeded, “Are you undeniably certain that no-body is aware of your hidden status? You know we must check prior to every procedure.”

 

Jisoo had practically been living a lie for the past several months, fuck, his entire job was to fundamentally lie. But he was lying to criminals, gangsters, offenders, men that were fated to be locked away. Those were lies that were operated for a greater, obliging purpose. However, to withhold the lethal truth from a fellow respected co-worker, a truth that was fatal, this act – this sin – was exceptionally testing for Jisoo.

 

For almost three seconds of thought, Jisoo had nearly decided to speak honest. But he just couldn’t, the truth wouldn’t leave his lips, and that only left the lies, “No. I am certain that they are unaware.” He felt like he was lying to the court after just taking oath.

 

“Perfect. Now, good luck out there, detective Hong. Catch you on the flipside.”

 

Before Jisoo could’ve bid his goodbyes, the call ended. The black silence crept its way in again. Jisoo was almost glad that Chan entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Jisoo swiftly lifted his head, and didn’t say a word. In stillness, he watched as the younger stepped in front of him, towering over his figure on the bed.

 

Then, he spoke, “I’ll do it. Tell me what to do, hyung,” he simply said. Candidly, Jisoo was taken by surprise that Chan had accepted his offer that’d given him hardly any details. Perhaps he’d said yes to this because he didn’t know he’d be leaving his brothers forever; Jisoo knew Chan wouldn’t have done this if he knew that would’ve been a consequence. He studied the boy’s face: strong with determination.

 

Jisoo nervously cleared his throat and shuffled on the bed. “Are you sure? You know I’m not forcing you, but-”

 

“I’m fucking sure, hyung. Just tell me before I change my mind,” Chan retorted and clicked his tongue. He certainly made it clear that tonight was not the night for messing around or any heart-to-hearts.

 

Jisoo hurriedly gathered his darting thoughts. “We’re leaving for the meetup in a few minutes, yes?” Chan nodded. “I know this new place where it’s gonna be held, I know there’s exits that… won’t be covered tonight.” It was tricky for Jisoo to select the right words without giving tonight’s operation away to Chan.

 

Chan furrowed his brows. “What?”

 

“When I look to you, Chan,” he interjected him. “When I look at you and nod, start your bike and leave through the exit I’ll point out for you. By the time you’re out the room, the others won’t have time to question.” Jisoo’s hands moved with his instructions as he’d spoken.

 

“But what about Junhui and Hansol? What will happen to them? I will see ‘em again, right?” Chan was shooting out questions like an anxious young child.

 

“You will, possibly. Just - not for a while,” Jisoo explained, trying his best to keep the details unsaid. By then, he figured that Chan had worked out what was going to happen. He could tell by the look Chan had held in his eyes after Jisoo had spoken: confusion had vanished and all that was left behind was shock.

 

Chan knew this was a raid.

 

“Okay. I trust you. I trust you to look after my hyungs.”

 

Jisoo wished he hadn’t trusted him with such a job; once they were to be in prison, Jisoo would have no control over them, yet he couldn’t tell Chan that, he couldn’t cause the boy to have worried. “I promise. They’ll be okay.”

 

Unexpectedly, the door had opened again, and there stood Junhui who was tucking his t-shirt into his jeans. “What are you doing in here? Come on! We gotta go, boys,” he ordered with half enthusiasm, half stress, and Jisoo hastened to his feet, following Chan out of the room. The last time he left this room, the last time he would’ve seen this apartment. He stuffed the phone in his back pocket and let out a deep breath.

 

Trailing behind Hansol and Chan out of the building, he stuck close to Junhui. “Are you sure you’re okay to attend?” He questioned at the remembrance of Junhui’s rather fresh grievance on his chest.

 

Junhui snorted, “A shallow gunshot wound won’t stop me, Jisoo, even if it does sting like a bitch. You know I can’t just sit in fucking bed, or something, and let this meetup play out without me. If you somehow haven’t noticed by now, I am quite a vital piece in this enormous fucking chess game.” Jisoo could’ve almost tasted the salt in Junhui’s voice. He knew, it served him right for wasting Junhui’s breath on such a foolish question.

 

Everything came to an end. And tonight, a lot of things were. The final time Jisoo would be riding with these men, the last night he’d see their faces, the last time he would be addressed as _Sun_ Jisoo. On the way to the location, he’d thought to himself about what was going to happen to the bikes, and Junhui’s arcade: who was going to take care of what they’d leave behind? Jisoo had struggled, yet he managed to stop these thoughts before they clouded his vision.

 

The operation was almost over, there was no room for obstacles.

 

One thing that Jisoo had taken note of from his time undercover with this organisation was that most of the spots they’d ever chosen for whatever task was more than often abandoned or out of order. It was smart: choosing a place where it would have almost been impossible to find anybody else, though in other ways, it was one of the stupidest things they could’ve chosen. As an officer himself, abandoned buildings were one of the first answers to many situations when on the lookout for men like these. And that was where his team was: hidden on the outskirts of the office building, simply waiting for the right moment. Luckily enough, they were unseen as Jisoo had followed the group inside.

 

The section of the building Junhui had let them into was fairly large. For previously being an office, it certainly appeared exquisite with teal blue flooring, and walls of a light wood panelling the pillars placed throughout the area to remove the overwhelming spacious feeling that would’ve been there if they’d not been present. On the far wall was wide windows that ran along the whole length of it, allowing nothing but the moonlight to seep into the room. The majority of the windows were smashed, and Jisoo felt the fresh air that breathed through the gaps. Still, apart from the broken windows, the room had seemed to be in a decent shape still, there was only a small amount of graffiti coloured on the chipped walls, and only a couple of lights were swinging in the breeze from where they’d detached from the ceiling.

 

They were last to arrive.

 

It hadn’t gone unnoticed when they’d rolled through the room, lining up just as they would’ve at the last location. Jisoo had thought that the meetup prior had been chilling—tonight he was proved wrong. There had been no comments, not even a snigger, there were only the glares of every other man in the room that were sharp like daggers that teared through Jisoo’s skin. And when he was the last to turn off his engine, the silence hit him even harder. Jisoo glanced down the line to Junhui, who was focused on Seungcheol, yet Seungcheol was glaring at Wonwoo before Wonwoo cleared his throat.

 

“I think it’s time to get this meeting going,” the pale-faced male had stated boldly before he swung his leg over his bike and stepped off, adjusting his jacket and twitching his neck sharply to the side, most likely till he’d heard and felt the bones click. Seungcheol and Junhui had quickly followed and already, the three leaders were in the middle once again.

 

And for the final time.

 

It was like a dirty little secret that Jisoo had kept as he watched the three unsuspecting men discuss quietly in the middle. With caution, he discreetly glanced behind him where the exit was perfectly placed. That was where Chan was going to have made his escape—if he was to be swift and successful.

 

As the three men quietly shared words between them, Jisoo watched carefully.

 

“It’s been a demanding month, for sure,” Seungcheol had spoken louder, for the rest to listen. “And I wanna cut straight to the point. _My_ point,” his voice had darkened as he let his even darker eyes land on Junhui. Jisoo’s breath hitched. “You really thought I wouldn’t have found out one way or another?” Seungcheol questioned although his tone hinted that it was more of a rhetorical one. The male in the black suit stepped closer to Junhui, and Wonwoo stepped back out of the way.

 

“What are you talking about, Seungcheol?” Junhui had asked, keeping his stance strong and unphased no matter how fierce Seungcheol’s glare grew.

 

“Don’t play dumb with me, fucker,” Seungcheol snapped. Even though he was slightly smaller in height compared to Junhui, it surprisingly hadn’t made him appear any less threatening.

 

On the edge of his bike seat, Jisoo watched in anticipation as there had been a moment of silence before Junhui bravely uttered, “I dunno what you mean,” and he never abandoned Seungcheol’s stare. Seungcheol ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and dipped his head, letting out a small chuckle.

 

He lifted his head, still with an almost irritated smirk written on his lips as he’d spoken, “Remember when my Mingyu was found on your turf? Chan beat the shit outta him, didn’t he?” Jisoo watched Seungcheol’s eyes as they’d glanced to Chan, who was at the end of their gang’s line, and then quickly back to Junhui. “The kid came back with an almost broken ribcage, and a pretty messed up face,” Seungcheol stated, clearly unable to let that scenario go. Jisoo could’ve seen where Seungcheol was going with this from when he’d begun speaking to Junhui—he hadn’t wanted it to go down this road.

 

Junhui rolled his eyes. “Are we really bringing this up again? It’s not my fucking fault, Seungcheol,” he hissed, staring down at Seungcheol like a cougar facing a wolf.

 

“No, we aren’t. We’re going to bring up the fact that you broke the rules yourself. Took some of my fucking guns along with you too,” Seungcheol had said, and then new footsteps echoed in the room. Jisoo looked to the left to spot Mingyu as he’d stepped off his bike and strolled closer, cracking his knuckles.

 

Not one man in the room had flinched when Mingyu threw the first punch, his fist landing on Junhui’s cheekbone. Jisoo knew by now: they had all seen much worse and this practically was nothing. Not even when Junhui was on the floor, face dripping with blood and only painful groans escaping his lips as Mingyu had carried on kicking, stamping, punching, anything Chan had done to Mingyu himself that day.

 

It was all an act of revenge, rage, and reprimand as Mingyu’s arms rolled and hit Junhui more and more.

 

To admit the truth, Jisoo had wanted nothing more than to rush into the middle and throw Mingyu away from his ‘boss’. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because not only was that a foolish move to have made in a situation like this, surrounded by enemies—but Jisoo also had the eyes of his team on him, even if he couldn’t see them at this moment. Yet he knew if he’d defended Junhui, it would’ve been a sign of compassion. And the last thing Jisoo was supposed to do in this kind of job was develop a bond with these men. So, he forced himself to watch from his bike.

 

The string of groans and whines from Junhui had ended after a minute or two when Wonwoo had pulled Mingyu away. “You’ll fucking kill him, Gyu!”

 

Mingyu’s chest heaved as he caught his breath. His blazer was hanging off his shoulders and his button-up shirt had become untucked, hair dishevelled. Wonwoo had kept a hold on him as he stepped back some more away from Junhui. Jisoo looked to Seungcheol: he was pissed.

 

“I don’t think you’re in a good place to tell Mingyu what the fuck to do, don’t you think? Cause _I_ think you’re ordering him around enough already,” Seungcheol bit and Wonwoo stepped away from Mingyu after he had shaken him off. Seungcheol dismissed Mingyu and he staggered back to his line, examining the fresh red liquid on his hands. “Next time, Junhui, just don’t take my fucking shit. If you do that again, I’ll make sure Mingyu kills you, and nobody gets in the way,” the dark-haired male had bent down to snarl into Junhui’s ear as Junhui had sat up, wiping the blood from his lips with the sleeve of his jacket.

 

“And don’t fucking think you’re outta this, Wonwoo.” Seungcheol shot back up to his feet and spun to face Wonwoo.

 

“What, you’re gonna get Mingyu to beat me too?” Wonwoo joked, evidently calm even beneath Seungcheol’s anger.

 

“Not if you quit using him,” Seungcheol replied boldly as Wonwoo had stalked closer, both stood beside Junhui who was slowly rising to his feet again, spitting blood onto the floor. Jisoo glanced to Mingyu again who was sharing eye contact with Seungkwan beside him.

 

There was another deadly moment of stillness.

 

“How the fuck do you know?” Wonwoo snarled and made no sudden movements with his body.

 

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is the money you’ve made from selling pot on your turf isn’t yours, Wonwoo, and you know it,” Seungcheol said, standing closer to Wonwoo.

 

“I needed the money because somebody almost ruined my whole fucking business,” Wonwoo had snapped and Jisoo watched as his glare quickly flitted towards him. “And I won’t stop until they pay me what they made us lose.”

 

Jisoo didn’t blink. Didn’t move. His life depended on it.

 

Seungcheol paced in the direction of the Neon Boys line, like he was thinking about his next move. Jisoo watched him as he spun back around, clenching his fist, and went for Wonwoo. A yell sounded from the right, where the Rockets were lined up. It seemed to have been Jeonghan as before Seungcheol could’ve gotten to Wonwoo, Jeonghan stood between the two.

 

“We’ll stop!” Jeonghan shouted, his hand firmly planted on Seungcheol’s chest and didn’t let it go. “Mingyu won’t have to give us any drugs anymore. All we need is the money - from Jisoo. He owes us for what he did.” What Jisoo had prayed not to happen, Jeonghan had done: he’d dropped names, his name.

 

“Jisoo, what’s going on?” Junhui spluttered, now stood upright.

 

Jisoo bit his tongue. Everything was going to shit. Secrets were spilling like a knocked over tin of black paint.

 

“He fucking spread those rumours and now he owes us,” Minghao added in from the Rocket’s line.

 

“Jisoo? What do you _owe_ them?” Junhui asked again, sorrow gradually filled his eyes, creeping into the tone of his voice and the expression on his face. Jisoo just sat there, unable to find an answer. He couldn’t even meet Junhui’s glare. Instead, he kept his eyes on the ground. That was when he’d noticed a pair of boots come into his view and before he knew it, he was grabbed by the shoulder and shoved into the middle by Wonwoo. The man was awfully forceful in his action and Jisoo had almost tumbled onto the ground as Wonwoo clutched his jacket like a lioness grabbing a cub by its scruff.

 

“Told ya I would think about it,” Wonwoo hissed in Jisoo’s ear as he still kept tight hold of him, then pushed him into Junhui’s body. Junhui didn’t seem to care; he was more focused on the current topic: what Jisoo was paying the Rockets for. Jisoo knew this was what he had on his mind because his eyes had never left him since he’d asked him the question.

 

“Look, Wonwoo, I told you. It wasn’t out of spite. I apologised,” Jisoo had explained calmly to Wonwoo who stared back at him with sharp eyes. “You don’t need the money anymore, you know that.”

 

“An apology out of fear isn’t enough!” Wonwoo yelled. In the hastiest seconds, he drew out his handgun and pointed it directly at Jisoo.

 

“This is exactly what we don’t want any more, Wonwoo! Put the gun down!” Seungcheol commanded loudly and carefully stepped closer to Wonwoo.

 

But Wonwoo didn’t move his hand. And Jisoo didn’t move his body.

 

“Jisoo, what the fuck have you done?! What are you keeping from me?” Junhui interrogated from beside him, total dread and annoyance in his weak voice.

 

Jisoo turned to face Junhui. Junhui’s eyes didn’t read pure anger like Jisoo had expected: they only read betrayal.

 

“I’m sorry, Junhui, I really am,” Jisoo’s voice wobbled. He was apologising for everything, even things that Junhui had no idea about, he just felt like it was his duty to say sorry for what he’d caused.

 

“Tell him what you did, Jisoo,” Wonwoo demanded and briefly signalled the gun to Junhui, and then back to Jisoo.

 

Humiliation, terror, sorrow, fury, guilt. Jisoo felt it all in this single moment, staring down the barrel of a gun, with everyone’s eyes on him. It couldn’t end like this. No. It won’t. He was so close to busting this case open – yet he was also edging closer and closer to death. Wonwoo’s finger was hovering readily over the trigger and Jisoo knew: this man was not afraid to kill him right now, in front of everybody. Wonwoo was tired of child play.

 

Jisoo followed Wonwoo’s orders like a vulnerable hostage, “I-I’m the reason Wonwoo’s shop was weakening and losing money. I lied to his customers for my own enjoyment. And now I gotta pay wuh-what they lost.” He was so incredibly defenceless whilst Wonwoo had the gun on him. One miniscule fuck-up and it was over.

 

He caught Junhui’s deep sigh beside him, “Shit, look it’s not like he can pay up now, is it? State a deadline, Wonwoo and I’ll make sure he’s on time. Don’t do this, man.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” Wonwoo spat and shot a brutal glare towards Junhui. “Junhui, I see something in Jisoo that you are blind to. My boys smell a rot too, and I’m sure we aren’t the only ones. He’s hidin’ something, he’s fucking hiding something big.” He shook his hand that held the gun violently as his words grew sharper.

 

Jisoo felt his own hands had turned clammy as he dug his fingernails into his palms. Truly, he didn’t know what was worse: the whole organization finding out he was a cop, or Wonwoo shooting him in the face. He knew that one way or another he wasn’t surviving this. He daren’t have spoken, relying on the people around him to do so for him. Yet when Junhui had sent him a look that said, ‘do you wanna fucking explain some more?’, he was forced to open his dry mouth.

 

“Puh-please, Wonwoo. Put the weapon down. It… it won’t end well for you,” Jisoo tried to persuade gently as he slowly hung his hands in the air to surrender. He was beginning to well up, as much as he tried his best to keep it back.

 

Wonwoo’s brows raised. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re the one on the end of this thing.”

 

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo. I really am! But I can’t-”

 

“You almost ruined my life, Jisoo. I almost lost everything,” Wonwoo’s voice was significantly softer. Even from afar, Jisoo noticed the new glisten in his eyes as the teardrops formed, and the new tremble in his hand. Jisoo looked over Wonwoo’s shoulder and watched Jeonghan cautiously place his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders. The older male seemed calmer as he dipped his head to whisper into Wonwoo’s left ear. Whatever Jeonghan had said, it somehow worked on Wonwoo. Jisoo watched in sheer relief as his arm slowly fell.

 

Jisoo knew now, he couldn’t waste anymore time. He turned to look back at Chan to signal for him to escape. But when he looked away from Wonwoo, a yell echoed throughout the room, and then…

 

…and then a gunshot.

 

Jisoo’s body jumped like a rabbit under the wrath of an angry farmer and his shotgun.

 

But Chan fell. Chan fell onto the ground. _Chan did_.

 

“FUCK! NO!” Junhui bellowed. Jisoo stood and watched him rush to Chan on the ground, along with Hansol who jumped off his own bike to lean down close to Chan on the cold hard floor.

 

Everything happened far too quickly. Jisoo saw Wonwoo tackled to the ground by an officer, and then everybody else: thrown against the walls, or the bikes, or shoved onto their fronts on the floor, hands pulled behind their back, and wrists cuffed tightly and mercilessly. Jisoo heard it all, ‘Hands where I can see ‘em!’, ‘Keep fucking still!’, ‘You’re under arrest!’. As he’d come back to his senses, he rushed to Chan where Junhui and Hansol were roughly pulled away by officers. They wrestled and struggled under their holds to try and get back to Chan.

 

“Jisoo, what’s going on?! Chan! Chan get up, please! Please!” Hansol bawled as the officer dragged him away. His words burned Jisoo from the inside out. He looked fucking terrified.

 

Jisoo lowered to Chan’s level as the boy’s small body lay feebly on the ground, blood pouring and pouring from his chest. He was losing blood much quicker than Junhui had. Jisoo placed his hands on the wound, Chan’s warm blood coated his skin and tears fell from his cheeks as he looked down on him. “I’m so sorry, Chan. I’m so fucking sorry. Y-you were supposed escape. You don’t deserve this.”

 

All of the chaos around Jisoo had faded as he listened to Chan’s words, “No, I’m sorry, hyung,” Chan panted. The colour drained so quickly from the younger’s face, and his usually bright eyes were clouded and tearful. He gazed up at Jisoo like he was the light. “I told ‘em. You’re a criminal too, Jisoo, they had to know, I’m sorry. Your fate is the same as ours.” His voice grew weaker and weaker as his eyelids drooped, and the blood poured. He was in noticeable pain as his breaths were staggered and uneven, and tears rolled down his white cheeks. All Jisoo had wanted to do was take the bullet for Chan, let him bleed out instead, please, he couldn’t let Chan go like this.

 

He frowned. Before he could’ve asked Chan to clarify, he was abruptly forced to his feet. A pair of hands gripped onto his blood-stained wrists and wrenched them behind his back to lock them in place with cold, harsh metal handcuffs. He peered over his shoulder in utter bewilderment to see one of the officers.

 

“Hong Jisoo, you’re under arrest on suspicion for the murder of Kim Siwoo and Lee Doyun. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions...” The continuous of the officer’s warning had faded away for Jisoo, just like all of the other surrounding sounds. Kim Siwoo and Lee Doyun must’ve been the names of the men he shot and killed when they were securing the guns.

 

“No – I need to help him! Let me help Chan! He’s dying, he needs help!” Jisoo objected and cried but it hadn’t worked. He had never fought so hard for somebody.

 

The yells in protest, the slamming, the swearing, Jisoo heard it all on the way out of the building. He’d kept his eyes on Chan until he could no more, and watched an officer or two kneel beside his body, and say something on their radio. Unlike the others, Jisoo didn’t fight. He let the officer lead him to the back of one of many police vans. It seemed he was the last to fill this van.

 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end, at least not in Jisoo’s head. His job was supposed to be over, he was meant to never see these men again. But instead, he was pushed into the back of the police van, sitting opposite from Junhui, Hansol and Mingyu. Beside him was Jeonghan and Seungkwan. Seungkwan sobbed quietly on the end of the seats, his head dipped into his chest. All Jisoo wanted to do was kick and scream, throw a tantrum like a little brat toddler. He simply couldn’t, though.

 

His breath had become ragged and shallow, and his head grew hazy. Throughout the majority of the car ride, he had attempted to think up possibilities that he could stop himself from wasting away in prison. In final, he came to the conclusion that there was no realistic or dignifying way out. His only option was to handle the situation with truth and honesty like the officer he was. It hurt, oh God, it ached to know that not only was his career as an undercover officer over, but his life, his freedom, liberty. And as if a knife to the stomach wasn’t agonising enough, the idea that Chan had turned him in as a killer was like the knife was being twisted viciously. The blade was brutally distorting his insides but he understood: it wasn’t undeserved, or harsh on him. Lies _always_ ended dreadfully. And after countless operations, his fate had finally found him. And he didn’t loathe Chan for his decision neither; ultimately, he had done the right thing. To kill, on Jisoo’s part, was wholly unnecessary.

 

Jisoo sat with his head dipped. He didn’t want to show his face, neither did he want to look at only a few of the men he had lied to and betrayed. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t help but listen to the conversation between Junhui and Hansol who were seated across from him.

 

“He’s gone, Junhui. Wonwoo shot him when the fucking cop got onto him. He didn’t mean to, I saw it on his face. He looked destroyed,” Hansol disclosed to Junhui quietly. Like he was trying to hold back his tears, his voice was shaky and unstable, and it faded away towards the end.

 

Jisoo heard the grimace on Junhui’s face as he’d replied, “I don’t give a shit if Wonwoo’s finger slipped on that trigger or not - or fucking whatever. Next time I see that bastard, I’ll end him. Even if it’s with my bare hands or a goddam improvised prison knife.”

 

“Now be careful, Junhui. A Rocket is present,” Jeonghan reminded in a threatening tone and Jisoo felt him shuffle beside him as he gestured to himself as much as he could’ve with his hands tied behind his back.

 

Mingyu groaned. “This shit’ll be over once we’re all in the same colours: fucking prison uniforms,” he grumbled. His voice was coarse and Jisoo wasn’t surprised; he had just been yelling for his freedom out there.

 

Jisoo nodded leisurely. “Mingyu’s right. Once we’re referred to prison, and if we’re still together, we’ll be relying on each other—not fighting anymore. Every other man there will be a new face so a familiar one, no matter what the history, will be uplifting. Trust me,” he spoke up. He knew from experience as a cop that in prison, that was how it worked typically. He questioned in his mind if he was going to tell them this was all his doing, or if they were to find out on their own behalf anyway. Either way, he was expecting it.

 

In the back of that van, his soul mourned as he heard the voices of the men who shared the space with him, who were going to share half of their upcoming life with him. But his soul was mourning for Chan’s youth. Out of everyone, he was the soul who should’ve lived and thrived. Gone too early. For the first time in his life, he cursed God for his decision. It was his duty to make things as right as they ever could be now. The voices around him, they were relieving and warm—the handcuffs on his wrists were tight and cold. He’d grown accustomed to these voices, and strangely yet amazingly, he was glad that they weren’t going to disappear anytime soon.

 

They were the only souls that he had a chance with now.

 

“I’m really sorry this happened,” he muttered. Even though they would’ve had no notion of what Jisoo truly meant, it was relieving to speak it aloud to not even half of the men he owed this apology to. “I’m sorry it had to end like this,” his voice broke towards the end as the emotion built up in his throat.

 

“All good things come to an end,” Jeonghan replied, almost with a hint of defeat, or submission. “And with every end comes a new beginning.” His handcuffs rattled behind him as his hands moved.

 

“Seungkwannie, please,” Hansol hushed pleadingly from the other side even though he himself had tears streaming down his cheeks at that point. “Everything’s gonna be okay, right, Jisoo?” He stole Jisoo’s gaze with his glassy, bloodshot eyes that begged for reassurance from his hyung.

 

“Right, Hansol. Everything will be alright. We’re gonna be okay… all of us,” he comforted shakily. That was it, he’d resolved that his career was at an end, and he was most likely going to spend a long, _long_ time in prison with these men.

 

“We have each other.” The others around him hesitantly nodded in agreement. “From now on, we work as one.”

 

Gazing at the policemen through the bars that separated the front of the van and them, he reminisced on the initial day of his first ever undercover operation, comparing it to this one, his final. It was the peak of winter. Snow had begun to set on the pavement that Jisoo had waited on the corner of, awaiting his assigned dealer. The serene loveliness of the snow calmed his nerves.

 

Snowflakes only set if the ground is dry. A wet surface soaks the tiny crystals like sugar in water. The pure white beauty of snow only comes to those who keep their lies and secrets from spilling. But snow is awfully cold, and bites at your skin the longer you’re in it. Thus perhaps, it’s better to let the rain fall and for the untold to pour. Because after all, snow is temporary. When it melts away, all that’s left is water that lays on the ground just like rainwater.

 

He had learned in the most bittersweet of ways that: truth _always_ shows itself, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just want to thank everybody who has taken the time to read this fic! We've worked so hard on this story and honestly I'm just as emotional to end this! This is our first completed fanfiction and it certainly won't be our last... keep on the lookout for more stories.  
> Thank you, we love you <3


	12. Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! After reading everyone's comments on the 'final' chapter, I've decided to continue this story. You've helped me realise there's still so much to say with this fic and still loose ends that need tying. And if I'm honest, I myself was not satisfied with the 'ending'.  
> So here it is, I hope you enjoy this surprise!  
> Listen to the [playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5mLzbwPmD9aRvYs5DBYHJO)

**_August - Seoul Correction Facility - Prisoner 1643-2128_ **

Some things just change completely, and so quickly, that you’d think you suddenly switched lives with a stranger. Absolutely everything turned upside down in the blink of an eye, in the pull of the trigger. Soonyoung hated change. Especially when there was nothing that he could’ve done about it, when he had no control, no handle on the situation. And recently, his life was being played out through other’s decisions. Soonyoung also detested being dictated, or restrained. It had been one thing for Seungcheol to have ordered him around, he was okay with that; he respected Seungcheol. But prison guards? Fuck that. And a mindset like that was what had gotten Soonyoung in here in the first place.

 

In SHU.

 

For somebody the likes of Soonyoung, the SHU was the equivalent to Hell on Earth—truly. Four tall grey walls and one tiny window that was placed far too high to even look out of. He had no idea of how long he had endured in this box, all he knew was that it drove him to insanity. With zero human interaction apart from the occasional officer to hand over his ‘food’, Soonyoung had no-body to talk to. So, he ended up talking to himself. He’d also decided to make the most of his time in isolation, and spend the majority of it exercising: sit-ups, jumping jacks, push-ups, anything to pass the time and keep his bleak mind occupied in this bleak room on these bleak days.

 

Although there was one thought that never escaped his mind. It remained day and night, over the yells of the other prisoners, to the dead silence of the nights. He’d said his name aloud so many times that he lost count. It was all he had to remember him by—his name falling from his lips, how it sounded, how it felt to say, “Chan…” And whenever he said it to himself, he was back at the night of the meetup. He hadn’t seen it coming, no-body had. _Feisty, he’s gonna be a problem, a handful_ was what he had been called by the officers when they tried to manage him and his fury. He’d watched the men around him heartlessly pulled under the control of the officers. It went without saying that he had put up a fight trying to reach Chan. A series of slipping out of the officer’s hold and sprinting in the direction of the boy, only to be quickly shot down again. He didn’t give up. Not when he couldn’t see through the tears, not when his throat was burning from the desperate screaming and shouting, not when the cop cuffed his wrists behind his back and violently dragged him away. “They’ll fucking pay, Chan! They will, I promise!” was the last he had ever said to him – a promise.

 

It was like the world was against him that day when he was hauled into the same police van as the man who’d shot the bullet into Chan’s body: Wonwoo. Luckily for Wonwoo, they were tied to their seats, so no matter how hard Soonyoung had pulled, how far he had tried to step to reach Wonwoo, he simply was unable to lay a finger on him. Although, he could shout as much abuse as he’d wanted—until the officers told him to shut the fuck up. “When I get the chance, I’m fucking killing you, Jeon Wonwoo! It’s your fault for taking out your gun! You killed him, you killed Chan!” he’d screamed, handcuffs rattled behind him as he shook his arms in attempt to free himself. Soonyoung recollected that beside him, Seungcheol was the one to pacify him. Although it hadn’t lasted long. At any chance Soonyoung had seen, he tried to reach Wonwoo. Even when they entered the prison, Soonyoung had fought under the officer’s hold, spit in his face, kicked, yelled, anything to show how wrathful he’d felt.

 

In the end, he was sedated. The officer had wrestled him to the ground and ordered for a medic to stick a needle into his back, sending him to sleep.

 

Soonyoung had woken up here.

 

“Kwon!” He heard his name, and the jangle of keys. The heavy door opened. Soonyoung was laying on his back on the cold, hard ground, legs extended and rested on the wall. He sat up and turned to see a guard waiting impatiently in the doorway.

 

“It isn’t time for lunch yet, is it?” Soonyoung queried and his brows knitted together. After so long, he’d manged to work out when the guards were to send food to him. His body had grown accustomed to the schedule and only grew hungry when it was feeding time, like a signal.

 

“No, it isn’t. It’s time for you to go into gen pop. Now, get the fuck up before I change my mind, inmate,” the guard snapped, spinning his keys around his index finger impatiently.

 

“You’re shitting me…” Soonyoung muttered to himself. He had heard of stories where prisoners would stay in solitary confinement until their sentence was over, forgotten about and irrelevant to the system. But Soonyoung was getting out of this hole. Oddly, he was somewhat grateful to be thrown into the normal part of the prison. He got to his feet, joints aching as he rose.

 

“Do you know how long I’ve been in there, officer?” Soonyoung asked as he was led down the corridor of cells. There were doors where inmates pressed their face against the square of glass, screaming and pleading to be let out, shouting abuse at Soonyoung out of spite and jealousy that he was freed.

 

“A month? Maybe a little over a month, I dunno, inmate. I haven’t been counting the days!” Soonyoung didn’t mind that the officer was irritated by him, the sheer joy and gratitude that he had been taken out of SHU was too overpowering to have taken offence.

 

Fresh air. He never thought he’d be so grateful. It kissed his lungs and welcomed him back into the outside again. He was led to a minibus parked outside the building he’d been locked away in for the past month, and was ordered to take a seat. His hands were cuffed which made it impossible to buckle himself in. “It’s a three-minute drive, I think you’ll live,” the officer replied after Soonyoung had asked for assistance. Soonyoung shrugged and looked around: the seats were completely empty. By the looks of it, he was the only prisoner who was being transferred to gen pop today. Was it really that rare for inmates to escape isolation? Along the ‘three-minute drive’, Soonyoung had kept his eyes out the window, absorbing the early afternoon of the outside world before he was back behind bars again. Fuck, he wanted his freedom.

 

They were quick to throw him into gen pop—one swift strip search, a small tour of the camp and before he knew it, Soonyoung was alone again. But surrounded by inmates. Clutching onto the pillow, blanket and toiletries he’d been handed, he wandered down the hallway in search of Cell Block B– where the officer had told him where his bunk was. Every man, excluding guards, wore the same as him: a beige uniform that was generally a little on the big side, along with black boots. Soonyoung had rolled up the sleeves of the gray long-sleeved shirt underneath his beige t-shirt so that he wasn’t _exactly_ the same as everybody else. He didn’t like to blend in. Not even in prison.

 

When he’d arrived at B, and walked into the dorm where, somewhere, he’d find his shared bunk, Soonyoung noticed two faces: Mingyu and Seungkwan. Everybody else glared at him in a hostile manner as he rushed to the two who chatted in one of the bunks. The dorm was fairly large with around four bunks on either side that held two beds each. There was no real privacy between the dorms; they were merely divided and sectioned off by half walls. Mingyu and Seungkwan were at the back end of the room, in the last cube on the right side. Seungkwan abandoned his task on finding where his new bed was, and went straight for his friends.

 

“Soonyoung, what the fuck?!” Mingyu called out when he’d caught sight of him over Seungkwan’s shoulder, who’s back was turned. “You’re still here? We thought they’d taken you to another prison!” He said through a smile and wrapped his long arms around Soonyoung. Soonyoung hadn’t seen a smile in so long, heck, he hadn’t smiled himself in so long.

 

“They took me to SHU after I wouldn’t stop struggling. Apparently, I have a temper on me?” Soonyoung replied sarcastically, jokily pretending like he didn’t already know he had an intense short temper. It’d been a while since he’d been able to make a joke.

 

“Jesus, they’re harsh on you, hyung,” Seungkwan said when he’d turned to face him. “I missed you.” He stepped closer to gift him a short hug.

 

“Do you know who you’ve been assigned with? Who’s your bunkie?” Mingyu asked as he gestured to the items in Soonyoung’s arms.

 

Soonyoung shook his head. “I got told there’d be one empty bed in here for me.”

 

“You’re here, Kwon,” a light voice called over the wall from the next cube down. Soonyoung knew that voice. He walked closer to peer over the wall and put a name to it. He found Jeonghan who lay on his back on his bed with an open book in his hands. “Lucky you,” he mumbled.

 

“Awe shit,” Seungkwan chuckled nervously, fingers playing with his nametag that was clipped onto his shirt. “Your bunkie is a Rocket,” he said in a sing-song.

 

“Look, I’m not gonna fuckin’ beat you just come sort your shit out,” Jeonghan snapped back. Soonyoung followed Jeonghan’s orders and dropped his things on his new bed. It was still a shitty bed, but it was far better than the metal construction with a mattress thrown on top of it that was in isolation. “I’ll make your bed. The officers are funny about that shit,” Jeonghan spoke up with his eyes that remained on his book. Soonyoung stopped what he was doing and instead, sat himself down on the unmade bed, running his hand along the thin mattress.

 

“So, what’s it like here? Hey, do you know where Seungcheol is?”

 

“Listen, tiger.” Jeonghan slammed his book shut and dropped it on his chest. “We’re in fucking prison now. It’s pretty shitty. Do you wanna know why we’re in here?” He sat up and crossed his legs, clasping his hands together in front of him. Soonyoung asked why and Jeonghan replied, “Sun-fucking-Jisoo.”

 

Soonyoung chuckled nervously. “Jisoo? We’re in prison because of Jisoo?” He couldn’t hide the amusement in his tone. Of all men, he did not expect Jisoo to be the cause of this major fuck-up.

 

Jeonghan nodded. “He is – _was_ – a cop. Real name’s Hong Jisoo. The world’s pretty crazy, huh?”

 

“What - how do you know all this?” Soonyoung tilted his head.

 

Jeonghan smirked and shrugged in response. He picked up his book and lay back down. Soonyoung sighed. If he was being honest, he was almost glad that Jeonghan was his bunkie; at least he knew him, even if Jeonghan liked to hold grudges.

 

“Hyung, you comin’ for lunch?” Seungkwan was stood at the entrance to the cube with his arm rested on the top of the half wall. Mingyu stood beside him. “We gotta lot to catch up on,” he said over the babble of the inmates as Soonyoung followed the two out of the dorm.

 

The canteen area was booming, quite literally. Rowdy inmates chit-chatted and laughed noisily. It was like fucking high school again, only full of criminals, and there were no women. Soonyoung had grabbed a tray and let the cooks fill it up with what looked like it was supposed to be food. At least it looked better than the shit he’d gotten in SHU. That was not fit for human consumption. Mingyu and Seungkwan led him to a table where Seungcheol was sat beside a few unknown inmates. Soonyoung took a seat opposite Seungcheol, and waited for him to realise he had returned.

 

When he’d finally finished his conversation with the guy beside him, he beamed at Soonyoung. “Soonyoung! You’re here!” He exclaimed and reached across the table to grab Soonyoung’s shoulder and shook it enthusiastically. It was overwhelmingly satisfying to have seen Seungcheol again. Seungcheol was safety, he was protection, his hyung as well as his boss.

 

“Returned from the hole,” Mingyu added from beside Soonyoung and nudged his arm gently.

 

“Have they told you about Jisoo?” Seungcheol asked as quietly as he could’ve over the racket of the prisoners. “If he was in this prison, he’d be fucking _dead_ by now,” he spat. Soonyoung asked where he was instead. “Only guy out of us who got referred to a different prison. I heard Busan. Think it’s because he was employed to this one. Or they knew he would’ve had twelve angry men after him.” He took a mouthful of his lunch and chewed hard, muscles in his jaw visibly moving. Soonyoung began to eat his own. It tasted awful—stale and bland. Still, he threw it down his throat like he hadn’t eaten the whole month he was isolated. Throughout, Seungkwan had caught him up on the most recent events like how long their sentences were: Seungkwan’s was five years, along with Mingyu and Seungcheol… life.

 

“Shit, Seungcheol I’m sorry,” Soonyoung murmured before he took another bite from his chopsticks. God knows how many dirty criminal mouths had been on these. He squirmed just at the thought.

 

Nevertheless, Seungcheol waved off his apology. “Come on, don’t be sorry, kid. You know there’s no point in that bullshit.” Soonyoung nodded admittedly.

 

Suddenly, Jeonghan had appeared at the table. The other strangers had dispersed when he had told them to leave, and he’d taken a seat beside Seungcheol to whisper something into his ear. Seungcheol stopped chewing. Jeonghan made a swift escape, though not before sending Soonyoung a chilling glare. Soonyoung wanted to ask what that was about, and he noticed Mingyu and Seungkwan who exchanged knowing glances. He shrugged it off and stood up to empty his tray in the bin across the crammed canteen.

 

That was when he saw him, walking into the room with Minghao. Soonyoung’s hands tightened into white fists, and he fixed his jaw. Rage overtook him. With Chan on his mind, Soonyoung darted towards Wonwoo and instantly tackled him onto the floor. Minghao cursed in shock, just like Wonwoo had when his back hit the ground, taking his breath with him. He wheezed and Soonyoung wrapped one hand around his throat whilst hurling solid punches to his face with the other. Soonyoung was so overcome with fury that he couldn’t say anything but yell and growl as he carried on to beat Wonwoo, no matter how much Minghao tried to wrench him off from above. The inmates had begun to gather around the scene, yelling and cheering. Soonyoung heard the officers, then he felt their hands on him, then he felt the ground once he was thrown off of Wonwoo who coughed and groaned, rubbing his throat as blood dripped down his face. An officer kept Soonyoung pinned to the ground on his chest, pulling his hands behind his back and shouting into his ear, “Do you wanna go back to the SHU already?!” Soonyoung shook his head desperately, tears forming in his eyes as Chan didn’t leave his mind. “You get two shots. Now get the fuck outta here, Kwon,” the officer snarled before letting go of Soonyoung and pulling him up to his feet before shoving him in the direction of the hallway. Soonyoung tumbled out and threw a scowl over his shoulder as the inmates dispersed to let him through.

 

Next time, he was going to kill him.

 

 

After his outbreak of aggression and violence, Soonyoung was forced on shower cleaning duty for a week. Just his luck, it was also nightshift.

 

“It’s really bad in there, hyung. They really gave you the worst job,” Mingyu giggled quietly. Seungkwan was already asleep on the other side, in his own bed. In fact, most of the dorm was fast asleep by now. Soonyoung sat on Mingyu’s bed with the thin blanket above their heads. Prison brought the child out in both of them. As much as he could’ve in the dark, he examined his bruised knuckles and ran a finger across them. He winced at the pain. “I mean, it can’t hurt more than Wonwoo’s face… You really messed him up,” Mingyu said.

 

Soonyoung scoffed, “Yeah, well I’ve been waiting a while to do that-”

 

All of a sudden, the blanket was wrenched off from the two and they were out in the open again. Soonyoung snapped his head up to where a young officer stood with a mop and bucket filled with cleaning supplies. Not the nicest surprise.

 

“It was lights out half an hour ago, Kim. You know the rules by now,” he stated in a surprisingly warm voice. He didn’t seem angry nor demanding. Mingyu apologised quietly and the officer spoke again, “Come on, Kwon. Duty calls.”

 

The B block showers were dreadfully grim. The officer had left Soonyoung to it once they’d arrived, and Soonyoung was alone again. He began with the floor, wiping the mop along the tiles and scrubbing away at the dirt as if it was his anger. Watching, the harder he scrubbed, as the muck vanished. Though he knew that soap and water couldn’t dissolve his distress in the same way. He frantically worked his way along the length of the room, admittedly procrastinating the actual showers. Growing nearer to the last cubicle, the sound of quiet sobbing grew noticeable to Soonyoung. He stopped and listened carefully.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked prudently but there was no answer. The crying continued and out of respect, Soonyoung went back to mopping the floor. Soonyoung had no idea who was in the room with him. For all he knew, it could’ve been a serial killer and his plan was to lure Soonyoung in before stabbing him to death with a shiv and leaving him to bleed through the night on the filthy shower room floor. This was prison; it was possible.

 

But this voice did not sound like it belonged to a serial killer, nor a criminal at all for that matter. “S-Soonyoung…?” It snivelled. It was a small voice, vulnerable and youthful, so quiet that it barely echoed. Soonyoung stalked back to the end cubicle. Whoever this was knew who he was, he just didn’t know them, and that frightened him. When he’d peered around the wall of the shower stall, he hadn’t seen anybody at first. Not until he dragged his gaze down to the floor. They looked up at Soonyoung with teary eyes and a small pink nose.

 

“Holy shit…” Soonyoung muttered. His insides felt like they’d melted and he was going to throw them up. “The SHU really has made me fucking crazy.” He raised his hand to place his palm on his forehead that had begun to form sweat beads. He stepped back. His mouth was fixed partly open, and his eyes didn’t leave him…

 

 ** _Chan_**.

 

He was hugging his knees in the corner of the shower, on the stained damp tiles. So helpless he seemed down there, as he asked for comfort through the torment in his eyes.

 

“Soonyoung.”

 

Snapping out of his terror, Soonyoung rushed down to crouch to Chan’s level and cupped the younger’s face that was wet with tears. “You’re real? Are you real? Please, am I insane or are you here right now?” Soonyoung stumbled over his words as he wiped the tears from Chan’s face with his thumb. Chan nodded rapidly, and held Soonyoung’s jaw to lean in eagerly and place his lips on his own. He kissed and kissed, quick little pecks on Soonyoung’s stunned lips.

 

“I’m real,” he whispered. “I thought – I thought you’d been transferred. Where have you been?” He rested his forehead on Soonyoung’s.

 

Soonyoung’s eyes widened. “Where have _I_ been?! I thought you were fucking dead, Chan! No, you were, I-I saw you on the ground!” Soonyoung exclaimed, thoughts erratic. “Wonwoo, h-he shot you!” He didn’t care how loud he was being in the middle of the night; he was way too fucking bewildered right now.

 

“They took me straight to hospital and then sent me to the medical here as soon as they could. When I’d recovered enough they brought me into gen pop. I’ve been here for three weeks now,” Chan explained through sniffles. Soonyoung just shook his head in disbelief. He was too surprised to cry; his body was in shock. Like everybody around you was telling you it was the end of the world, truly, you’d refuse to believe them. You’d remain in disbelief and denial even when the buildings were tumbling into fire and ash as the sun plummeted from the sky because you’d told yourself that the end of the world would never happen. It wouldn’t happen to you. Soonyoung could touch Chan, hear him, feel his heat, taste his lips on his that were salty from his tears, real tears, but he couldn’t comprehend. “I-I missed you, hyung,” Chan’s voice broke like he was about to start crying again.

 

“I missed you too.” Soonyoung gently pulled him to his feet. “Why are you in the fucking showers, anyway? What’s wrong?” He asked as he pulled Chan into his embrace, resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but squeeze so tight around the younger’s frame. He didn’t want him to go anywhere.

 

“I couldn’t sleep. There’re too many people in there, I couldn’t control my thoughts. Especially when my bunkie is snoring so fucking loud,” Chan snapped and gently hit his hand on Soonyoung’s back out of frustration. Soonyoung could’ve felt the tears falling from Chan’s face and dropping on his shoulder.

 

“What’s on your mind?”

 

Chan hesitated. “It’s nothing. You’re here now. We’re together again and I’m alive.” He leaned out of Soonyoung’s arms to have looked him in the eye so strongly. “I missed you so much,” He said again then he plunged into Soonyoung’s chest. Soonyoung closed his eyes and his lips curled upwards a touch.

 

“You’re a miracle, Lee Chan.”

 

 

**_August - Seoul Correction Facility - Prisoner 3853-6834_ **

Books were an escape for Wonwoo.

 

Now that he was trapped behind bars, the prison library seemed like temporary heaven for him. He kept it to himself—no-body else knew how much he would love to dive head first into a book of fiction and let himself sink blissfully deep, deep into the words. As a gang leader, Wonwoo didn’t find it exactly intimidating to outwardly express his love for made-up stories; his life as a Rocket was far from make belief. It was all facts, reality, hard-hitting life. That was why he’d prowl through the tall bookshelves when he knew there’d be almost no-body there: the early morning. Lucky for him, he was more than used to waking up with the sun, only in here, he couldn’t actually see the sun rising with him.

 

Fingertips ran along the dusty edge of the shelves and feet stepped lightly on the carpet. Aimlessly, his eyes rolled along the different spines of the books. He wasn’t in search for anything in particular, just something that he could’ve distracted himself with. There were around one or two other inmates in the library too, both fairly old and ultimately harmless. Apart from that, it was almost silent. Silence was amazingly scarce in this building. Wonwoo did not take it for granted. The library was the only room that didn’t make him remember he was caged in a prison. In here, the walls weren’t stained with mystery, most of them were hidden by the tall bookshelves that touched the ceiling. The books that sat on the shelves brought colour and life, unlike the rest of the prison that was so dull and monotone. The windows in here weren’t trapped behind metal bars like the prisoners themselves. You could’ve actually touched the glass, and felt the warmth of the sunshine melting through. It was so bright in here, and open. Wonwoo felt a sample of freedom.

 

As he had come to a halt at a fairly sparse shelf, he flicked through the books that were there. Nothing had caught his eye. Although, _he_ had caught somebody _else’s_ eye. On the other side of the shelf, he noticed that infuriatingly charming grin, those poking canines being the accent of his smile. It would’ve been a lie if Wonwoo had denied the fact that he had jumped back slightly at the face he’d revealed as he moved the books along. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant surprise (as much as he didn’t want to admit that).

 

“Jesus fuck, Mingyu,” he whispered aggressively as he clutched at his heart, his beige prison uniform crinkling in his fist. Mingyu stifled a laugh. Wonwoo carried on leisurely making his way down the shelf, only to be followed from the other side. Was he holding dog treats in his hand, or something? “Why are you here?” He questioned through the books. If anyone was to spot him from his side, they’d think he was crazy, talking to books.

 

Wonwoo noticed through the gaps that Mingyu had raised his brows. “Can’t I visit the library that we all share? If you gotta know, I’m looking for something for Soonyoung, is all.” Wonwoo didn’t believe that for one fucking second, but after hearing the name Soonyoung, he automatically switched conversation.

 

“Soonyoung,” he scoffed. “He’s fucking feral, really. Did no one think to tell him that Chan isn’t fucking dead before he thought to come for me?” It was the least to say that Wonwoo had not settled with yesterday’s incident in the canteen. He was made to look weak and vulnerable thanks to Soonyoung. And now he had purple black rings under his eyes and a bruised neck from where he was almost brutally choked to death.

 

Mingyu shrugged guiltily. “I guess we just forgot he wouldn’t know. He was down in SHU for a while.”

 

“Why is he so bothered anyway? It’s not like Chan’s one of you. He’s a Neon Boy,” Wonwoo asked, still ambling along the bookshelf and following Mingyu’s eyes through the openings between books. They’d spoken quietly and Wonwoo tried to act as discreet as possible.

 

“I’ve seen the way they look at each other. There’s something going on.” Mingyu tapped his nose with a closed smirk, white teeth poking through.

 

Wonwoo raised a brow. “You think they were fucking before prison?” He inquired even more quietly, leaning closer into the shelf.

 

“I think they were seeing each other. Soonyoung would be gone for ages sometimes, and he’d always be on edge when he returned,” Mingyu clarified in the same volume as Wonwoo.

 

Wonwoo stopped for a second and hissed, “That would explain his attempt to kill me in the police van that night. God, he was so fucking angry no wonder they sent him straight to SHU.” He started walking again and so did Mingyu. “And you didn’t ever think to tell Seungcheol about this?”

 

Mingyu hesitated, then muttered, “I don’t wanna be a hypocrite.” Was Mingyu hinting at _their_ situation?

 

All of a sudden, they reached the end of the shelf, and there was nothing in between them. No barrier. Face to face. Mingyu’s eyes widened ever so slightly when he was able to see Wonwoo without any books in the way. “Wow… Soonyoung didn’t hold back, did he?” He said and stepped closer to lightly touch the cut on Wonwoo’s bottom lip with his thumb.

 

Wonwoo hastily moved back and dipped his head. The warmness of his touch was too promising. “No, he didn’t…” He mumbled.

 

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Mingyu whispered and removed his hand. “Hey, y’know now that Soonyoung knows that Chan’s here, he’s fucking terrified that you’re gonna send Jihoon or Jeonghan after him,” he brought up in a more light-hearted tone and his cheeks rose slightly. Wonwoo guessed that this was his attempt to reassure him.

 

“Well, tell him he doesn’t have to keep on his toes, yeah? My crew have more vital shit to deal with.” Wonwoo leaned closer, careful not to touch, and uttered into Mingyu’s ear, “Business is still running, even behind bars. We’re managing to sneak sugar in here through visitation and other shit. We’re making _money_.” There was a small, gratified smile on his lips as he’d spoken.

 

Mingyu didn’t return it. “Wonwoo.” He looked around to make sure there were no ears listening, and then hit Wonwoo with a fierce glare with his pointed eyes. “Wonwoo if you’re trying to get me to be your fucking drug mule, I’m not falling for that again,” he whispered harshly. “There’s always a catch with you Rockets.”

 

Wonwoo pursed his lips and nodded. “Mm, you’re right. That tight ass wouldn’t survive not even one baggie,” he joked bravely through a quiet laugh. Mingyu couldn’t help but smile and dip his head. “No, but really. Why’re you _really_ here?” He asked.

 

Mingyu shrugged timidly. “I knew you came here every morning. Just thought I’d pay a visit,” he admitted as he strolled to Wonwoo’s side of the bookshelf and sat on the carpet, legs propped up and resting his arms over his bent knees, back pressed against the shelf. He looked totally comfortable in front of Wonwoo. Wonwoo dropped down to his level and crossed his legs on the carpet, facing him.

 

“I really-” Wonwoo began. His fingers played with the grey carpet flooring. “I really can’t stop thinking about that night.”

 

“I don’t think anyone can,” Mingyu said, and his tone switched to match Wonwoo’s which was more sombre now.

 

Wonwoo sighed deeply. “I mean, I shot him, Mingyu. It was me. It was my fault he was so close to death.” He blamed himself for a lot of things; it was something he did as a leader.

 

“Hyung.” Mingyu placed a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder and caressed with his thumb. Wonwoo glanced at his tan hand and gulped. “It _wasn’t_ your fault. I saw what happened: that cop ran right into you, it’s not your fault your finger slipped on the trigger. Anyway, Chan didn’t die.” Mingyu’s restful and unique voice felt like reassurance for Wonwoo.

 

“But I hurt him real fucking bad. And I didn’t mean to, that’s the problem, Gyu. If I’d intended to shoot Chan, I wouldn’t be feeling this shitty right now.”

 

Mingyu had a truly sympathetic look on his face. “Don’t take this on yourself. It’s in the past.” He gently shook Wonwoo’s shoulder as if he was trying to shake some sense into him. Then, he let go. Wonwoo stared at the floor, but felt Mingyu’s steady gaze on him. “We’ll all never be able to let go of our memories of that night, hyung. None of us will. And none of us will forget Jisoo and what he’s done to us all. But we can still move past it. There’s no point on dwelling. We’re in fucking prison now. We’ll serve our time then we can get the fuck outta here. And maybe we’ll go back to how things were, or maybe one gang’ll switch cities completely. But we can learn from this.”

 

“Shit, Mingyu. It’s too early for this,” Wonwoo sighed nervously and ran his hand through his black hair. “You’re too good to be in here,” he muttered and finally caught Mingyu’s gaze. Wonwoo watched the pure delight that filled Mingyu’s bright eyes, and noticed his lips curved into the slightest smile.

 

But he waved Wonwoo off. “Nah, I’ve done illegal shit just like you. I deserve to be in here, you know that.”

 

Wonwoo sneered. “You’re in here for five years. Me? Fourteen. I think you’re the gooder person.” He meant that whole-heartedly. Mingyu was better than him.

 

Mingyu shook his head like a child. “I like you, Jeon Wonwoo. You’re a good guy.”

 

Wonwoo denied, “I used you.”

 

“I let you.”

 

“Fuck you,” Wonwoo chuckled and light-heartedly hit Mingyu’s knee. “You’re never gonna let me win.”

 

Mingyu grinned playfully. “Nope. Prison has made you softer-hearted.”

 

“No fuckin’ way. _You_ have,” Wonwoo declared boldly. He watched Mingyu’s open smile as it grew wider as he looked to the side. There was a glimmer of pride in that smile. Wonwoo would’ve only let that type of smile last on Mingyu’s face—anybody else and he would’ve wiped it clean off of them.

 

“Hey, do you know when Minghao’s gonna be done making this tattoo gun? It’s really biting away at me that my tatt is unfinished,” Mingyu suggested, shifting the topic. He tapped his upper arm, Wonwoo’s eyes followed his hand.

 

“Who said you could get it finished?” Wonwoo raised his brows.

 

“I did,” Mingyu replied daringly with another smirk. He quickly rose to his feet again, and looked down on Wonwoo.

 

Wonwoo couldn’t reject Mingyu when the tan male was staring down at him like this, hands on hips. He looked up at the younger, but hadn’t tilted his head back to do so. He simply raised his sight upwards so he looked at Mingyu through hooded eyes. “He should be done by this week. I’ll let him know.”

 

Mingyu thanked him quietly, “Thank you. See you around, yeah?” Then swiftly left, disappearing behind the bookshelves. Wonwoo leaned to the left to watch him stroll out into the hallway and eventually disappear around the corner.

 

 

Wonwoo considered himself lucky when it came to the types of jobs that inmates could’ve been assigned to. He was based in the laundry room, usually working most of the day assorting inmate’s dirty washing, throwing them into the cleaner and then the dryer, folding and repeating with the next batch. Yeah, it did get boring but luckily for Wonwoo, he was with all of his men. It was the perfect circumstances to discuss business without unwanted listeners.

 

“Christ, it ever gets easier,” Jeonghan complained as he picked up another beige shirt with only his index fingers and his thumbs, like he couldn’t bear to hold it. He leaned back away from it. “It smells so bad,” he whined over the never-ending rumble of the washers that spun. Wonwoo rolled his eyes on the other side of the tables as he folded the washed laundry. “Why the fuck do you and Jihoon get the cleanest job?” Jeonghan droned.

 

“Because you’re used to the filth,” Jihoon retorted jokingly. Jeonghan scoffed and threw a dirty shirt at Jihoon. Seokmin giggled beside Jeonghan. Wonwoo watched Jihoon at the side of him who shot Jeonghan a killing glower. “I’ll remember that,” was all he said.

 

Usually Wonwoo would’ve shut the childish acts around. But that was on the outside. In prison, he wasn’t exactly the highest-ranking boss anymore.

 

“I really miss our jackets,” Seokmin brought up through a small pout as he eyed up the uniform that he held up in front of him.

 

“Well, they’re most likely burned to ashes by the cops or some shit by now,” Minghao answered coolly as he entered the room, rolling another overflowing laundry basket in front of him. Minghao wore his beige khakis tucked into his black socks at the bottom, and it went well with the thick black boots. Wonwoo didn’t want to admit how badass he looked. His sleeves were always rolled up too, to display his tattooed arms.

 

“Fuck sakes, more already?!” Wonwoo snapped and raised his hands only to drop them and hit them on his sides. “Anyway, now everyone’s here. The update is: it’s gonna snow soon, boys,” Wonwoo begun, slamming his palms on the table with a smile.

 

Wonwoo caught Seokmin’s frown. “With all due respect, it’s summer, hyung,” he said which brought Minghao to snigger at the head of the table. How the fuck was Seokmin still alive?

 

“I’m talking about fucking cocaine, Seokmin,” Wonwoo deadpanned. “Look, there’s boys in C block who are itching for a blow, and we’ve got guys on the outside who are happy to provide. Jihoon already has an effective routine with visitation. Jeonghan I want you on this too.”

 

Jeonghan stopped what he was doing and looked to Wonwoo with wide eyes. “I’m not swallowing any-fucking-thing or shoving lubed baggies up my ass, thanks,” he sassed.

 

“No, you fucking moron,” Jihoon bit. “Cut a hole in the waistline of your pants, the baggie slips in there. The officers never think of searching there.”

 

After Jihoon’s much needed clarification, Jeonghan let out a defeated sigh, “Okay, fine. I’m in.”

 

Wonwoo smiled. “Good.” Then shifted his focus onto the black-haired boy at the top of the table. “Minghao, can you work in the exercise yard again? Wait for the package to be thrown over-”

 

“Yeah, I remember the drill,” he nipped back.

 

“I’m not fucking finished,” Wonwoo hissed hoarsely. Minghao’s mouth closed. “Last time it was too dangerous; there was no disguise. This time they’ll be stuffed inside of dead pigeons. Just one, maybe two.” Wonwoo observed Minghao’s face as it dropped and disgust filled his dark eyes.

 

“Are you saying…”

 

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to cut that birdie open, I’m afraid,” Wonwoo completed Minghao’s assumption. It was a stunt that Wonwoo had heard being done before in prison, and he knew that the towers that the CO’s looked over the yard in weren’t always used. So, it seemed like a decent idea.

 

“Hey, that’s pretty clever, hyung,” Seokmin tittered.

 

“And grotesque,” Minghao mumbled beneath his breath, but Wonwoo heard him. He could’ve heard the smallest whisper even in a noisy room like this.

 

“Hey, if you want money when you get out, you’ll slice open a few birds and get your hands dirty,” Wonwoo said and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Oh, and if you wanna remain a Rocket, you gotta finish that tattoo gun, man. You have a waiting list.”

 

“And lemme guess: puppy dog has first serve?” Minghao mocked.

 

“Yes…maybe so.”

 

“Afternoon, bitches!” Wonwoo spun around to have spotted Chan who bounded into the laundry room with another inmate. On his waist was a thick black tool belt with several pockets and pouches that held all sorts of heavy-handed apparatuses. The other inmate, much taller than Chan, but seemed quiet, held books about electricals in his arm and a ladder in the other.

 

“Oh, fuck here comes the firecracker,” Jeonghan murmured as he looked at Chan.

 

“We’re just here to fix this faulty bulb, don’t mind us,” the other inmate said and he opened the ladder and set it down.

 

Wonwoo sighed. That was the end of drug talk.

 

“Don’t electrocute yourself,” Jihoon uttered sarcastically and went back to folding. Wonwoo had done the same, until Chan spoke up from across the room.

 

“Who did that, Wonwoo?” he asked as he held the ladder for the other prisoner, and released one hand to point to his own face, referring to Wonwoo’s injuries.

 

Wonwoo sighed. “Your fucking lunatic boyfriend.”

 

Chan spluttered, “Boyfriend…? I don’t-”

 

“Kwon Soonyoung. Because he thought I killed you and he clearly can’t control his fucking anger issues.”

 

“Soonyoung isn’t my lover… Why would you think that?” Chan was young. And he wasn’t very good at masking the panic in his voice.

 

“Inmates of different assignments aren’t supposed to communicate,” Wonwoo stated sternly, as if he was reciting the rule to Chan as an officer, which shut the boy up. As everyone had gone back to their work, Wonwoo did so too, but he kept his eyes on Chan. He was gazing up at the inmate on top of the ladder. Wonwoo was still astounded. This boy was breathing, he was alive, smiling, talking, crying, walking, laughing. Wonwoo recalled just a few weeks ago when he’d appeared out of the blue—he still looked pale and tired, but alive. Now, his appearance was certainly healthier, fully recovered. But for the first few days, he’d thought his guilt had driven him to start hallucinating.

 

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “I’m gonna take a break.”

 

After he had seen enough approval to leave, he took himself around the corner, behind the washers where it was dim and no one could’ve seen or heard him. Sliding his back down the wall, Wonwoo sat on the cold floor and brought his knees up to his chest, but not too close. He couldn’t have stopped the short breath that left his mouth as the tears built up, and the emotion bubbled in his throat. The tears—he couldn’t hold it back any longer, the overpowering emotion. That was why he’d had to get away before they’d noticed that his eyes were welling up. But now that he was safe, he let them drop. Breaths had become staggered and short, and the sorrow was unmistakable on his face. He brought an unsteady hand to hold over his mouth; that way, just in case anybody could’ve heard, his sobs were now muffled.

 

It was Chan. Whenever Wonwoo looked at Chan, he remembered the feeling of the bullet as it left the gun in his hand. And he remembered watching Chan’s face as it dropped, and his body fell from his bike. The outraged glares he’d gotten from Junhui and Hansol, the first few seconds of agonising cries from Chan before he’d become too weak to make any more noise: it all came to him when he looked at the boy. The guilt and blame, he didn’t know how long it was going to last but as of now, it seemed like eternity.

 

Holding his breath to force the crying to a halt, he wiped the tears away from his undereye and puffed cheeks. This was the first time he’d cried so intensely in this uniform, in this prison.

 

Mingyu was right this morning: prison was making Wonwoo soft-hearted. Prison was making Wonwoo _weak_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if you couldn't tell, my only prison knowledge is from binge watching orange is the new black lmao)


	13. Narcotic Birdie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tysm for all the love recently, it makes me so unbelievably happy, seriously!
> 
> I made a new [twitter](https://twitter.com/peachkwan1?lang=en) so it'd be easier to keep you up to date and I can share my own concept art with you all! I'd love to follow people back <3
> 
> (Just a warning: this chapter contains explicit drug use and one pretty gruesome scene.)
> 
> Happy reading~

**_August - Seoul Correction Facility - Prisoner 5830-6049_ **

The chapel was the most peaceful spot on site. It was even more comforting than the councillor’s office. There was a reassuring presence in this building that couldn’t have been found anywhere else on prison campus. God accepted everyone, even the criminals—if they repented. And Junhui repented his sins. He repented every single one of them. Nevertheless, he knew that no matter how much he sat alone in here on the front row of seats and prayed harder than ever, nothing was going to take away the life sentence he was cursed with. This place was his home now.

 

But he didn’t just come to the chapel to ask for forgiveness, no. There was a second motive. Truthfully, on the outside, Junhui had never stopped to question his beliefs, or what belief system he was even faithful to. It was Jisoo who had changed that, introduced him to the Lord. He would’ve never admitted it but Junhui had admired Jisoo. He admired his kindness, his loyalty, knowledge, faith, sympathy. All what Junhui wished he saw in himself. Especially faith. Faith in God. Jisoo had an unbreakable trust in Him. Even in their darkest times, Jisoo was able to lift spirits with his softly-spoken words, and his quotes from the bible (that Chan always rolled his eyes at whenever Jisoo recited one). But Junhui remembered every one:

_“Be strong and bold; have no fear or dread of them, because it is the Lord your God who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.”_

_“Cast all your anxiety onto him because he cares for you.”_

Still, Junhui knew the truth now. Jisoo was a liar, a manipulator, a sinner, a goddam cop. The rage of betrayal surged through Junhui and he slammed the bottom of his boot on the back of the next chair ahead of him. They were all fixed so it hadn’t moved at all, though it made a slam that resonated around the high-ceiling room.

 

“Is the man in the sky ignoring you this morning?” A voice asked from the entrance far behind Junhui. He twisted his head over his shoulder to see Hansol. The boy shuffled down the navy carpet flooring until he took a seat on the row behind Junhui.

 

“No,” Junhui muttered into his chest like a moody child.

 

He noticed Hansol pointed his index finger at the chair ahead that now had dirt marks from beneath Junhui’s shoe. “That’s a shot for vandalising prison property!” Hansol joked, mimicking the stern tone of the officers and bringing his voice down an octave. He giggled, but Junhui didn’t crack a smile. Hansol cleared his throat and spoke softer, “Sorry, uh, is something on your mind, hyung?” From the row behind, he folded his arms onto the back of the chair beside Junhui and leaned forward. “Talk to me, please.”

 

For almost ten silent seconds, Junhui rummaged through his mind for what he could’ve said to Hansol. He opened his mouth, and looked ahead at the stained glass at the back wall of the stage. “I trusted him. This is my fault we’re in here,” his voice was flat and gruff; he’d barely spoken since he’d woken up.

 

“I mean, we all trusted him,” Hansol said.

 

Junhui had put little effort into shaking his head. “I’m top dog and I made the decision to initiate Jisoo into our gang. I fell for his _fucking_ act and put you and Chan in irreversible danger,” gradually, his tone grew hotter with anger. Anger with solely himself. Ever since Chad had announced who Jisoo truly was, and why they’d ended up here, Junhui blamed himself. Most days, he’d moped around prison under a black cloud of guilt, and regret, and treachery. At least now, he understood why there was always a hint of guilt around Jisoo.

 

“Look,” Hansol grunted as he climbed over the chair so he was in the same row as Junhui, and sat beside him, “Jisoo was good at his job, too good for us to have known. None of us could’ve spotted it. Chan and I don’t blame you, Junhui.”

 

“I loved him like a brother. All that time he was keeping an awful secret from us, he worked against us. And I fucking hate myself for still forgiving him, fuck!” He kicked the chair again, but harder. He felt Hansol’s hand on his shoulder to hold him down. Hansol hushed him.

 

“He loved us, Junhui. There _was_ a part of him that’d grown attached to us, I saw it in the back of the van that night, and you saw it too. I know you did. When he said he was sorry, now we know why; he was apologising for this fucking mess that he dropped us in. He had real sympathy for us in the end. I see why you’d struggle to hold a grudge against him, hyung. I loved him like an older brother, too. We saw a part of him that his police-whatever-the-fuck team would’ve never seen. And he’s probably kicking himself in his cell right now, knowing what he’s done to us. Fuck, he still thinks Chan is dead. But all that doesn’t mean I forgive him. He ruined our fucking lives, hyung. You have to remember that he came into this gang with one goal: to destroy us. He never came to make friends.”

 

There were times when Hansol would speak so maturely that Junhui would forget he’s only twenty. Hansol was smart, sometimes he just had to open his mouth to let people realise that.

 

“No.” Junhui shook his head. “No, he won’t hear about Chan. He still needs guilt on his mind, like we all do. Then we’re equal. Plus, that shit would be way too much work. We’d have to add guys to our call list, then tell ‘em to call Jisoo’s prison somehow without the cops listening back and realising what we’re doing. It would be too risky.” Junhui’s own thoughts and feelings against Jisoo were confusing to himself. He loved Jisoo for the kindness and wisdom he’d brought but he also fucking hated his guts for lying to him and getting Junhui and his men into prison. He was a betrayer. Junhui forced himself to focus on those thoughts.

 

“Whatever you say, boss,” was all Hansol said. He paused, then sighed. “We gotta move past this, hyung. I know, it’s hard to let go when we’ve been betrayed but – he’s gone now. There’s nothing we can do. You’re allowed to forgive him, I won’t tell you that you can’t; you have your reasons. Please, just don’t let it eat you up. Forget about him.”

 

Junhui turned his head to look at Hansol’s face. The younger gazed back at him with pleading eyes. Junhui nodded. “I won’t. I promise, I won’t let it stick with me. Not when I’m stuck here until I’m carried out in a fucking box…” It was quiet for a moment. With the two sharing the holy silence of the chapel, sending their silent prayers to the Lord. Until the chapel doors burst open again. In a fright at the sudden noise, Junhui snapped his whole body in the direction behind him, Hansol doing the same.

 

It was Seokmin who hurried down the middle of the chapel, clearly focused on something since he didn’t even share a glance with the two Neon Boys in the front row. There was a shadowy expression on his face that hinted he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be. Rockets were always up to some kind of nuisance, Seokmin was always sneaking around like a fox under Wonwoo’s orders. Junhui watched curiously as Seokmin hopped up onto the stage and disappeared as he crouched behind the pulpit in the centre.

 

Junhui had a small idea of what he may have been up to.

 

“You guys didn’t see this, okay?” Seokmin finally spoke out from behind the pulpit, only a disembodied voice as his body remained hidden. Junhui’s brows knitted together and his eyes narrowed, listening to the shuffling behind the wooden stand. “And if you tell anyone you _have_ seen something,” he stood upright again, shooting a threatening glare, “I’ll make sure you can never see anything again.” He threw a sarcastic smile their way. “Got it?”

 

Junhui wasn’t in the mood to reply with a snappy remark. So, he quietly watched Seokmin leave the chapel in a hurry. When the doors swung shut again, he scoffed, “What the fuck was that about?”

 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Hansol said as he’d stood up and scooted out of the row. Junhui followed, knowing what Hansol was up to. He climbed up the stage with him and rushed around the pulpit. Hansol was already crouched down and feeling around the structure with his hands. Junhui descended to his level and watched until Hansol’s hands stopped when they were on the underside of the surface. “Shit!” He tugged and pulled something off. Junhui heard the rip of tape. In Hansol’s hand was a small baggie. “Cocaine.” There was a satisfied grin on his face as he eyed the purely white substance in the clear bag.

 

“Those Rocket fuckers are running business,” Junhui sneered. “Put it back, Hansol,” he demanded sternly. “We aren’t getting into that sorta shit. Not in here.”  Hansol’s focus remained on the baggie. Junhui knew exactly what Hansol was thinking. It must’ve been a few months since Hansol had a hit of something and Junhui could almost smell the desperation as the boy eyed the baggie. He hit Hansol on the back of his head, bringing Hansol to whine. “Put it back!” he raised his voice. He wasn’t going to let Hansol fall down that hole in prison, especially with cocaine. Weed was nothing compared to that shit.

 

“I was gonna!” Hansol snapped back as he rubbed his head. He’d begun to stick the baggie back where he’d found it and mumbled, “I was just admiring it’s beauty.”

 

Junhui scoffed. “That shit has no beauty. C’mon let’s go.”

 

Back on site, Hansol had quickly left Junhui, and Junhui was on the hunt for somebody. Somebody who shared the same dorm as him in cell block C. The whole prison was awake by now and Junhui stormed down the hallways, hands tightening into fists and teeth gnawing furiously on his bottom lip. Once he’d reached the dorms, which was fairly quiet since most had left for breakfast or to shower, Junhui went for the first bunk on the right. He didn’t bother to stop and make his presence known. The man he wanted was stood with his back to Junhui, and he was facing the window, looked like he was sorting through his things on the window ledge. Junhui had heard news of what’d happened last week, so he spared his face and instead shoved him forward so his chest hit the wall.

 

“Wonwoo, you asshole,” Junhui hissed in his ear as he held him firmly against the wall. Wonwoo grunted under Junhui’s grip. His front was pressed against the wall, arms over the window ledge.

 

“What the fuck do you want, Junhui?” He snarled quietly in order to refrain from grabbing attention from the officer on guard in the bubble.

 

“What I want is you to keep your powder poison away from my boys, especially Hansol. If any of your men sell him a blow, I’ll rat you out to every CO in this fucking prison and you’ll have to spend the rest of your shitty life in here with me like you were supposed to,” Junhui menaced, pushing Wonwoo harder. Junhui was always defensive over Chan and Hansol; ultimately, he wouldn’t be much without them. He would take a man’s life, or even if his own, if it meant his boys would live.

 

Wonwoo let out a small snort, “No-one likes a snitch, Junhui.” Junhui scoffed at him and roughly let go of Wonwoo. “How the fuck do you know about that anyway?” The pale boy asked as he spun around so he could lean his back on the wall. Junhui stepped back into the centre of the cube and folded his arms over his chest. He pursed his lips.

 

“I just saw Seokmin rush into the chapel and hide one of your prizes for someone to collect later on. I’m not stupid, Wonwoo,” he deadpanned. “Some of your workers aren’t so slick.”

 

“Jesus Christ. I told him to stay discreet.” Wonwoo shook his head.

 

Junhui always knew that Wonwoo overlooked rules most of the time, just like the business he’d had with Mingyu on the outside. And so, he was curious, “Are any of Seungcheol’s buying your shit?”

 

Wonwoo nodded and lowered his voice, “Soonyoung on rare occasions. I can’t believe I’m even letting him but it gives me cash in my commissary so I can’t complain. He’s always bouncing off the walls most of the time so you can’t even tell if he’s had a blow or not anyway,” he said through a chuckle. Junhui couldn’t disagree with him; he’d witnessed Soonyoung’s energy when it was past its peak that night of the meetup. He was like a pinball machine that never ended—he could’ve gone on like that all night.

 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Wonwoo,” Junhui tutted as he backed out of the bunk. Wonwoo shrugged.

 

“This isn’t a game. It’s a firm.”

 

 

 

**_August - Seoul Correction Facility - Prisoner 5839-0695_ **

“I can’t fucking believe Wonwoo’s making me do this,” Minghao griped under his breath. He was pacing back and forth along the back fence of the field. It was a lengthy field, most of it for the running track the inmates used for exercise in the fresh-air. Minghao was stationed far, far back, where it was quiet, and empty, skimming past the tall barbed wire and waiting for his call.

 

“I did my part this morning.” Alongside him was Seokmin. He stuck with Minghao, making sure the coast was clear. The younger stood ahead, his back to Minghao and front facing the prison.

 

Minghao stopped pacing for a moment to shoot an irritated look to Seokmin, who luckily couldn’t have seen unless he turned around. “All you had to do was transfer the shit that Jihoon collected.” He started walking again. “Meanwhile, I have to butcher a bird.”

 

“You’ve done worse to a man before, what’re you so bothered about?”

 

“Okay, I’ve done some fucked up shit before, but I’ve never sliced open a guy and dug around in his organs for planted drugs. Plus, I don’t exactly have anything against animals…” his voice dwindled towards the end out of embarrassment.

 

“You can kill a man but you can’t cut open a bird. You’re really soft inside, Minghao,” Seokmin giggled and turned his head over his shoulder to grin at Minghao. Minghao sent a fiery stare back. He didn’t like to be teased. In the blissful (and rare) moment of silence when Seokmin didn’t speak, Minghao slowed his pace and listened to the trees whisper in the gentle breeze, the ones that lined the whole outside of the prison. Today was pleasingly warm. And Minghao soaked up as much sunshine as he could’ve before rec time was ordered over for the day by one of the guards commanding everyone back inside. Out here, as far away from the prison building as he could’ve been, Minghao found the most peace he’d find more than any other place on camp. Not even the chapel, or the library, or the secret place _within_ the library where he did everybody’s tattoos. Outside, close to the _real_ outside, Minghao was able to sense real fresh air, and hear real sounds, and feel some sort of breeze on his skin. He felt somewhat alive. Momentarily free.

 

Until he’d remember he had fourteen years in here.

 

“Hey,” and the silence was broken. “Minghao, did you hear about King Riders? Apparently, they’re bringing in a bunch of cell phones. Well, one of the guards is and Seungcheol’s distributing them. I’ve seen so many inmates sneaking around with a phone.”

 

“SHIT!” Minghao couldn’t reply to Seokmin’s rambling; there was currently a bird corpse being thrown over the barbed wire fence. Minghao sprinted in the direction, arms out as if it was a rugby ball. “Shit, shit, shit,” he huffed as he grew closer. Luckily, the bird landed in Minghao’s hands. The cold, solid, heavy body. Minghao lifted his gaze to the guy who had thrown it over and nodded, as if to thank him. Before he knew it, the man was running off into the trees. Minghao looked back down to the bird again and held his breath. “God help me…”

 

He heard Seokmin’s quick footsteps in the grass as he ran closer to Minghao. “Holy fuckballs. Wonwoo really did it,” Seokmin snorted as he poked the bird in Minghao’s cupped hands. It was a larger than normal pigeon. Its wings were tucked in to its sides and its little pink feet were curled. Black, beady eyes fixed open and completely lifeless. Perhaps it looked fat because it had as much drugs stuffed inside of it as possible, or it was just the bird to eat all the seeds scattered on the pavement before any other pigeon. Either way, it was weighty in Minghao’s hands, and very, very dead.

 

“Let’s take it to the greenhouse and get this over with,” Minghao said and begun walking in the direction of the small garden. The inmates that worked on the vegetables there were supposed to be there frequently, yet they never bothered. Wonwoo had managed to make a deal with one of them to let Minghao inside and borrow one of the sharpest tools from the shelf that was locked away—these were criminals after all.

 

However, with Minghao’s luck, they managed to bump into a patrolling officer along the way. “What the fuck are you going to do with that, inmate?!” He asked, utterly disgusted and startled by the dead animal in Minghao’s hold. Most of the time, Minghao was laid-back. So, it was never a problem acting calm in a panicked situation. Even one where he could practically feel the dread from Seokmin beside him.

 

“I found it, sir. We were gonna bury it, we just needed a spade from the greenhouse.” He nodded his head to the greenhouse behind the officer who stood tall with folded arms and scrunched brows.

 

“Does this place look like a cemetery to you two?” The officer questioned in a sarcastic tone.

 

To which Seokmin replied, “I mean, yeah,” he mirrored the CO’s tone. Minghao watched the officer’s expression and it was unchanging. He didn’t seem like he was going to move anytime soon.

 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Minghao would never do this usually, but he pouted his lips and looked at the officer with weary, begging eyes. “Please, CO Jeong. This bird deserves a proper burial just like any human. He suffered so much for his pigeon friends and his pigeon wife and his pigeon kids and-”

 

“Fuck, alright! Just make it quick, Xu,” the guard finally snapped. He stepped out of the way and Minghao quickly ran to the greenhouse, replacing his pouty face with an accomplished expression.

 

“Thank you, sir!” Seokmin bowed enthusiastically and ran after Minghao.

 

Wonwoo had paid the men who worked in the greenhouse to have stayed out this afternoon, so Minghao opened the door to an (extremely hot) empty room, Seokmin not far behind him. “You got the keys, Seokmin? Get the gardening scissors,” Minghao demanded as he gently placed the bird corpse on the wooden table placed along the back wall. Breathing deeply, he stared down at the small animal on the table as he listened to the rattling behind him as Seokmin unlocked the cage and took the garden scissors. They weren’t the sharpest out of the option they had, but they were the only ones small enough to work on such a small body without any struggle; struggle meant more time. And they couldn’t waste any time with this.

 

“Scissors,” Seokmin said and stood beside Minghao to hand the tool over. He thanked Seokmin quietly and looked back down at the pigeon again. Seokmin began shuffling behind him again, and he heard the sound of Seokmin pulling out gloves from the glove box.

 

“No,” Minghao turned around to Seokmin. “No gloves. If the guards see a pair of bloody gloves we’re fucked. I’ll wash the blood off with the hose.” Minghao couldn’t take any risks. Seokmin shrugged and put the glove box back.

 

“You gonna do this or just stare at it?” He asked as he stepped to stand beside him again, both staring down at the bird on the table.

 

“Fuck,” Minghao sighed and opened the garden scissors. “These bitches are so fucking blunt.” He chose the sharpest blade of the two, the top one, and positioned it at the top of the torso, just under the small head. Minghao held his breath as he dug the dull blade into the bird, pushing until he could run it down and slice the body open. It was hideous, even for Minghao. After dropping the scissors down beside the bird, he grimaced as he stuck his fingers through the opening he’d created and dug around for what he needed. The nauseating smell started to rise from the animal and Minghao cursed under his breath.

 

“Fuck, who knew such a small thing could smell this fucking bad,” Seokmin groaned, his voice muffled as he held his hand over his nose and mouth. Inside, it was still fairly warm. Minghao kept feeling around the stomach and the guts until he felt the plastic of the compressed baggie that’d been stuffed in here.

 

“Yes, thank fuck,” he whispered and pulled out the baggie that was stained with stale blood. “Feel pretty bad for whoever’s using this.”

 

“Junkies don’t care, especially prison junkies. Whether it’s been through somebody’s whole digestion system or just up their ass. As long as they can get high,” Seokmin said.

 

“Well, they better appreciate this,” Minghao mumbled as he pulled out the second baggie, then the third. “That’s all of ‘em.”

 

“Good job, hyung,” Seokmin said and patted Minghao on the back. “Let’s wash this blood away.” He walked across the room to unravel the garden hose. He passed it to Minghao and turned it on. The water was freezing on Minghao’s pale skin, but it washed the blood away quickly. He held the baggies under the water too, along with the garden scissors until there was no trace of blood left, apart from the mangled bird on the table that needed taking care of.

 

“You put the scissors away, I’ll bury this,” Minghao said and picked up the bird again, wrapping it in a small, black bin bag and swiping a shovel on the way out. He’d chosen to do the job outside of the small garden, just behind the greenhouse. The hole was small, but deep enough to drop the bird inside. “I appreciate your work, birdie,” he muttered as he shovelled the soil back on top of the bird.

 

On the way back inside the building, after the shovel was put away and the drugs were stuffed down Minghao’s pants, the two ambled across the sun-drenched field, but the smell didn’t leave Minghao. He knew it wasn’t here, but he couldn’t seem to forget it. It brought his stomach to twist and turn, and as they got to the yard, he rushed to the trash bin. He threw up. Hot acid forced its way up his throat and into the bin. He felt Seokmin’s hand patting his back as he bent over the bin and groaned. It wasn’t like Minghao to have been easily disgusted. Then again, it’d been a while since he’d had to spill blood, even if it was just blood from a bird.

 

“Goin’ through withdrawals?” A new voice asked. Minghao stood up straight again and wiped his mouth. “You should stick to selling the drugs instead of using ‘em if you can’t take it.”

 

“Fuck off, Junhui,” Minghao slurred. Junhui stood with a hand on his hip. Minghao guessed he’d come from the bench across the yard where Hansol and Chan sat chatting under the shade of the parasol. Junhui wore the white long-sleeved shirt that would usually be worn underneath the beige shirt, but it was hot and Junhui’s sleeved were rolled so high that they showed off even his tan biceps. Minghao quickly shifted his gaze.

 

“I know what you Rockets are up to, okay? Walking into that greenhouse with a dead bird and comin’ out stuffing drugs down your pants. I see all.” He smirked and pointed his two fingers at his eyes. Minghao rolled his. He wiped is forehead with his arm and sighed.

 

“What’s your point? You wanna buy from us?” He asked.

 

“Fuck, no. I told your boss and I’ll tell his men: keep that shit away from Hansol. Got it?” Junhui gestured to Hansol behind him who was still on the bench.

 

“We got it, Junhui,” Seokmin retorted. “Now if you’ll excuse us.” He pushed past Junhui and carried on pacing towards the back door that would lead them back into the prison building. Before Minghao could’ve followed, Junhui stepped in front of him, and Minghao ran into his chest. The older glared down onto Minghao with sharp, fierce feline eyes and ever so slowly ran the tip of his tongue across his lips.

 

“I mean it, Minghao,” he warned in a deeper tone. Then, leaned closer to Minghao’s ear to whisper in a warm breath, “I’ll be watching you.”

 

 

 

**_August - Seoul Correction Facility - Prisoner 4498-2948_ **

“Are you coming to movie night? I heard it’s gonna be Train to Busan. We can share headphones if you don’t have any. I managed to buy a pair with the last of my commissary cash,” Chan suggested to Hansol as they sat in their cube. Movie night was a treat for inmates who could get their hands on some earphones from commissary before they were all sold. Usually, the movie choice was pretty awful, but it was one of a few sources of decent entertainment in this place. Plus, there was the occasional decent movie. Hansol had attended a few of them, but he wasn’t too fussed. He would’ve rather spent his time sleeping whilst the dorms were quitter.

 

He shook his head as he stood up from his own bed and threw a grey hoodie over his head. These plain hoodies were part of the prison uniform. They were optional, but Hansol wore his most of the time. “Not this time. You go with Junhui, he needs any distraction he can get.” These days, Junhui was always dazed. Even after over a month, he was still unable to pour away the mix of emotions that swirled in his brain like a lethal potion in a cauldron. Hansol understood. Just like in the chapel this morning, he tried his best to help Junhui get over what had happened, what had been hidden from them for several, several months. But Junhui latched onto his denial, he refused to admit that Jisoo had fucked them over. Junhui still found forgiveness in Jisoo—Hansol didn’t.

 

As well as for Junhui’s advantage, Hansol couldn’t attend movie night because he had other plans tonight. Chan gazed up at Hansol from the other side of the cube, as he sat on his own bed. Hansol noticed the disappointment that stole Chan’s smile. “I’m sorry, Channie. I promise we can do something together tomorrow, yeah? All we have is time in here.” It wasn’t a nice feeling to have let Chan down, especially when he looked up at Hansol with the saddest puppy dog eyes, and an irresistible pet lip. But Hansol couldn’t miss this opportunity that awaited him across camp. On his way out of the bunk, he ruffled Chan’s soft hair with his hand and apologised once more, before walking quickly out of the dorms.

 

On his way out of the building, he’d bumped into a few officers who were curious with where he was off to. When he’d told them that he was leaving for evening prayer, he was luckily left off. Hansol was a fairly well-behaved inmate. He kept his head down most of the time, and simply did his time, so guards were never too worried about what he was up to.

 

Tonight, he was taking advantage of this.

 

Granted, he knew this was wrong. It was awfully wrong. To betray his hyung like this, the guilt should’ve pulled him back but the temptation that awaited him in the chapel was too overwhelming. It had gnawed at him all day, just begging to be attended to.

 

With tentative hands, he pushed open the chapel doors. Empty. Hansol let out a relieved breath and begun to make his way down the middle of the chapel, between the rows of seats on each side. When he’d reached the stage, he climbed up.

 

Then something clattered in the back room to the right. Hansol froze. He waited a couple of seconds, and then moved again, praying that it was just a rat.

 

Hansol took a deep breath as he descended to behind the pulpit. This was bad, so bad, was all he could’ve thought as he reached underneath and felt for the baggie that he’d discovered with Junhui this morning. Fortunately for him, it was still there. Whoever the buyer was must’ve forgotten to come and collect their delivery. With a shaky breath, he opened the small baggie, shuffling so he was almost under the pulpit, and his back was resting on it. He poured a generous amount of the powder onto the back of his clenched fist, yet he was wary to have taken enough so it wasn’t evident somebody had come and taken their own sniff from a blow that wasn’t theirs. He raised his fist beneath his nose, and hesitated, looking down at the substance. He knew the risks and consequences, but he also knew the glorious high he would feel that he hadn’t felt in so long.

 

So, he pressed his finger onto one nostril and inhaled sharply through the other when his nose was on his hand, and let the powder enter his body. There was no going back now. His chest fell as he let out his deep breath, and he closed his eyes, feeling the adrenaline burst through his veins. “Fuck,” he whispered through a smile. A heat begun to rise in his body and he felt his heart thump wildly in his chest. He’d missed being high—the rewarding wave of euphoria that would wash over him and soak every inch of him.

 

For a few blissful minutes, Hansol had sat under the pulpit, alone, and felt his energy intensify. But then, he opened his eyes. The clatter in the back room, he’d heard it again. With confidence now, he scooted out from under the pulpit and shot up to his feet. He walked to the archway on the right wall of the stage and spotted a boy. A brown-haired boy with fluffy cheeks and puffy lips was sweeping the floor of the small dressing room with a broomstick. When Hansol stepped down into the room from the stage, he realised he was wearing headphones, and the small, handheld radio tucked into them hem of his pants.

 

“Seungkwan?” Hansol said. The boy didn’t hear; his back was to Hansol and Hansol could hear Seungkwan’s music through the cheap commissary headphones. He stepped closer as Seungkwan swept the floor, and gently lifted one side of his headphones to whisper closely into his ear, “Kwannie.”

 

With a loud shriek, Seungkwan quickly spun around on his toes with wide eyes. Hansol fell into a fit of laughter, clapping his hands with a huge, gummy grin on his face—but boy, was he off his face, those drugs were strong.

 

Seungkwan ripped off his headphones. “Shit, Hansol! Don’t do that in prison of all places!” He whined through pouted lips. With a light chuckle, he gently placed his hands on Hansol’s chest and shoved him backwards. Hansol apologised playfully. Being high always boosted his confidence, he couldn’t help himself but play around with Seungkwan.

 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” He asked, and sat himself on the steps he’d come down.

 

“What does it look like?” Seungkwan sassed and raised his brows. He lifted his broomstick, pointing to it. “I was given the duty of cleaning these two filthy dressing rooms that haven’t been touched for fucking months.”

 

“Why? What did you do?” There was always a story behind an inmate and their unfortunate assigned job. Things like this were more of a punishment for bad behaviour, rather than the prison work that was a measly 1,000 won an hour.

 

“I, uh…” Seungkwan dipped his head and shuffled his feet. “I was being too loud in the canteen, that’s all.”

 

Hansol scoffed, “You were-”

 

“I was excited because Soonyoung and I had cracked the case with Seungcheol,” Seungkwan excused like a child who’d been caught up to mischief. Hansol found this frustrated side of Seungkwan partly amusing. The way he scrunched his face, and how he stamped his foot lightly.

 

“What case? What about Seungcheol?” Hansol tilted his head in his hand.

 

Seungkwan rushed closer so he could’ve sat beside Hansol on the step. His body brushed against Hansol’s that sent a thrilling chill up the younger’s spine. “They’re fucking! Seungcheol and Jeonghan! It’s always after lunch time, we worked it all out,” Seungkwan lowered his voice just in case they weren’t alone—which was very unlikely.

 

Hansol’s eyes widened and his mouth opened. “Shit… I always knew Jeonghan wanted to get in Seungcheol’s pants; he wasn’t very good at hiding it,” he chuckled. A lot of people had their suspicions about those two. Hansol had picked up on a few shared glances between them, and now that they were in prison, they’d communicate much more. Hansol had noticed: Jeonghan was a seducer. And from what he’d heard from Seungkwan about Seungcheol, that man wouldn’t last under Jeonghan’s lusty gaze and alluring smiles.

 

“Are _we_ good at hiding it?” Seungkwan purred even quieter. Hansol let the boy lean closer until their faces were inches away. Unable to look away, he gazed back into Seungkwan’s inviting stare.

 

Until suddenly, anger struck the smaller boy’s eyes and he quickly stood up. “Fuck, Hansol! Are you high?!” He appeared genuinely annoyed.

 

_Yes_. “No,” Hansol muttered as he looked up at Seungkwan’s frown.

 

Seungkwan pointed a stern finger down at Hansol and snapped, “Don’t lie to me. I can see your pupils, they’re dilated and not because you’re looking at me. You’re fucking high!” He spun around sharply and paced to the mirrors on the wall, leaning forward placing his palms on the table along the wall.

 

“Look-”

 

Seungkwan glared at Hansol through the mirror. “What is it this time? Is it pot? Or is it something stronger? H? Coke?”

 

“Seungkwan!” Seungkwan stopped talking. “Get off my fucking case, will you?!” Hansol barked and stood up himself. He didn’t like to see Seungkwan like this, and he didn’t like to be pushed into saying things, especially when he was high. As Seungkwan watched Hansol through the mirror still, Hansol stepped closer behind the boy and draped his arms over his shoulders, bending down to see himself in the mirror. “I’m sorry,” he muttered into Seungkwan’s neck and begun placing his lips on the soft skin.

 

“Sorry isn’t gonna sober you up,” Seungkwan grumbled, tilting his head to the side to give Hansol more room to kiss. “You were supposed to be cutting back. I want to help you, Hansol. I wanna help you stay clean. But you gotta work with me.”

 

“How can someone go from one of Seoul’s most favoured drug dealer to, ‘I wanna help you avoid drugs completely’?” Hansol lifted his head from Seungkwan’s neck and met the boy’s eyes in the mirror. Ever since Seungkwan had spoken to him that night in the café, Hansol struggled to understand Seungkwan’s motivations.

 

“I told you. I won’t let you fade. Especially in this shit hole. If you carry on, you’ll die in here and I need you, Hansol. Didn’t you realise that when we fucked in that closet?” Seungkwan chuckled towards the end and turned his head so he looked at Hansol beside him, instead of through the reflection. How could Hansol forget? God only knows what that closet was like now. For all he knew, he and Seungkwan could’ve been the last to step foot in there; Junhui’s arcade could be shut down. Hansol hadn’t caught up with Junhui about the outside in a while. He had to get on that, prison had swallowed him whole recently, he hadn’t thought about the outside much.

 

“Oh, I realised,” Hansol said and pulled himself closer on Seungkwan’s behind, gripping his hips as the boy was already bent over to lean his hands on the table top. Quickly, Seungkwan laughed quietly and stood up straight, spinning around to look at Hansol again. Hansol looked down into the boy’s glistening eyes that were beginning to grow wetter. Hansol’s smirk faded when he realised the sorrow on Seungkwan’s face.

 

“Please. For me, Hansol. Stop this,” he almost whispered, his voice so small yet it hit Hansol straight in the heart with enormous force. “I know you can do it.” He placed his small hand on Hansol’s chest and traced patterns with his index finger.

 

“I promise. This time, I’ll stop.”


	14. Soft Skin, Inked Skin, Scarred Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took ages but I hope the cRAZY length (8,000+) can make up for it!  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/peachkwan1?lang=en)  
> WARNING: This chapter will contain smut!!

**_August - Seoul Correction Facility - Prisoner 6950-7042_ **

Seungcheol wanted this out of his pants as soon as possible. This was the last cell phone he was bringing into the prison for a while now; it was becoming far too risky, and the CO who was helping out was raising suspicion between his co-workers. With the phone tucked into the waistband of his pants, Seungcheol swept down the hallway in an attempt to look as calm as possible—but not too calm; this was prison. The only men who remained so care-free in this place were the psycho serial killers.

 

Now that Seungcheol was spending the rest of his dreary life confined within these walls, his priorities had changed quite a bit. Granted, for now, he was still the boss when it came to the King Riders, but there were far more ‘bosses’ here than what Seungcheol had to worry about out there. Gangs that’d been around before he’d arrived, men who had a name here, respect and wrath against others. Seungcheol had to watch his back for once. But he was still going to look after his boys just like he had out there. They’d spoken briefly about it: what would happen when the three left, but it certainly needed touching on in far more detail. Though for now, whilst they were still together, Seungcheol was still the devoted leader he always was and he at least had Seungkwan, Mingyu and Soonyoung who respected him. That was all that mattered.

 

As Seungcheol picked up the pace down the noisy prison, he heard a commotion around the corner, outside the dorms he was on his way to. Turning the corner, Seungcheol inhaled sharply to uncover a full-on brawl between two inmates. They were none of his boys—thank God. Between around a dozen inmates who spectated and cheered, Seungcheol spotted the drops of red on the floor, how it smeared as the two in the centre pushed and shoved, punched, kicked, twisted, broke. Jesus, this was all Seungcheol needed right now. The entrance to his dorm was completely blocked by the bloody fight, so all Seungcheol could do was stand and wait for a CO to come and solve this… or he could simply push through himself.

 

Upon a closer look as he slipped through the excitable men, Seungcheol recognised the face of one of the inmates. It was a sharp, scarred, hard face. Zhang Yong was his name—a kingpin who worked in China. Seungcheol had heard he was sent to a Korean prison, here, after he caused far too much trouble back in China. Too many enemies, too many vendettas. And apparently so, enemies in South Korea too, by the looks of it.

 

Yet, the man that Zhang Yong had pinned to the floor as he threw punches to his busted face, Seungcheol had no idea who that was. He was most likely somebody who could’ve merely said the wrong thing, or even just looked at him wrong. Either way, Seungcheol had to get into that dorm. If he stayed here until the guards came to control this, he knew what would happen. He’d be ruthlessly pinned to the wall like everybody else here, and potentially searched. And with a phone on him, he couldn’t have that. He wasn’t going to have that. That was why, as the fight only grew bloodier, and the distant yells of the CO’s down the hallway grew closer, Seungcheol made his move.

 

He didn’t want to bring too much attention to himself as he barged through the men; he didn’t want to be in a fight himself right now. Though with all of the elbowing and squeezing past, Seungcheol felt the phone, as it ever so slowly began to slip down from the waistband. It was going to drop down any moment, he knew it.

 

And when he bumped into a CO as they began dispersing the commotion, it did.

 

The cell slid down his leg and fell out of the bottom of his pants, bouncing beside his feet onto the hard floor. Seungcheol stared at it, bewildered, as if it was a bomb rather than a phone. Around him, guards shouted commands, _‘to the walls!’_ _‘get your fucking backs against the walls!’_. Seungcheol followed orders, not particularly up for getting beat.

 

When everything was under control, no inmate made another sound. Along the left wall of the hallway, they were lined, including Seungcheol himself. And with around five guards here, and one cell phone right in front of Seungcheol’s feet, he knew he was done for. Two guards left to take the two who had been the stars of this fight scene, left with three CO’s who were most likely about to give out shots, or some sort of speech that would boost their own ego.

 

Seungcheol couldn’t do anything but hold his breath.

 

“Okay, uhm,” one officer hummed nonchalantly. He was the tallest of the three, considering one officer was a woman. The tall officer took out the small notepad from the breast pocket of his light blue uniform shirt, along with a pen. Every CO had one of these, and Seungcheol knew exactly what they were for. A few inmates groaned, knowing what was coming. “That’s a shot for everybody here. Congratulations, boys! You all behave like fucking animals!” the officer smiled sarcastically as he glanced up to take a note of the next inmate along, then the next, and the next…

 

Until he was up to Seungcheol. And his eyes dropped down to the black object below. Seungcheol let his breath go, and cursed quietly to himself. The tall officer was, in fact, fairly young, perhaps only a little older than Seungcheol. And he was known for playing games with the inmates. Games for only the CO’s amusement. Seungcheol knew his name, officer Kang. Kang stepped closer to Seungcheol, and crouched down, running a hand through his short, dark hair.

 

“What do we have here, Choi?” he asked and picked up the old cell phone. Seungcheol dipped his head. It was worse enough having a CO find contraband on him, but what made it even more humiliating was the dozen pair of inmate’s eyes who were here to watch it all unfold—front row seats.

 

“I dunno, sir.” Seungcheol’s only option at this point was to play dumb. He fumbled with his hands behind his back and swallowed hard as he watched officer Kang stand up again and shake his hand with the phone.

 

“This is contraband, inmate!” he tutted. “Whaddya think, Lee?” He looked over his shoulder to the older woman officer, Lee, who approached. Seungcheol felt every eye on him.

 

“I think that’s another shot,” officer Lee answered, clearly enjoying this.

 

“Fucking bullshit!” Seungcheol growled and slammed his fist on the wall behind him. Truthfully, he knew he deserved another shot, but these days his stress was always biting away at him—he needed a release.

 

“Offense towards an officer? Do you want another one, Seungcheol?!” Kang raised his voice again.

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Okay!” Kang exclaimed far too loudly than necessary, and closed his notebook after reaching the end of the line. “That’s all, inmates! Move on, and if you see another fight, just fucking break it up like real civilised men!”

 

As the inmates dispersed, mostly complaining to each other, Seungcheol went for the dorms, yet he was stopped, again, by officer Kang.

 

“I see any more contraband from you, Seungcheol, and you’re down in SHU, got it?” the taller growled. Oh, how much Seungcheol wanted to punch this man’s face.

 

He stared up at that youthful face that looked back at him with a threatening stare. “Got it,” he hissed. Truthfully, he didn’t see how the SHU was supposed to scare him; Seungcheol was here for life, they couldn’t add any more to his sentence, they could only throw him down to more isolated confinement for several months. What was the difference? Either way, here or SHU, he was still in fucking prison.

 

In the dorms, he headed to his cube where his three boys were waiting.

 

“Hyung, did they take it?” Soonyoung asked, Seungcheol guessed he must’ve watched from the doorway.

 

“Yeah, they fuckin’ took it, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol sneered. Just as Seungcheol sat on his bed with the others, another group of guards burst into the room.

 

“Cell toss, boys! Everyone out your bunks!”

 

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Seungcheol should’ve seen this coming; usually when contraband was found on an inmate, the cells would be tossed in case there was more hidden under mattresses, or into carved holes in the wall, positively anywhere an inmate could’ve hidden their secrets. A cell toss was a CO’s favourite game—turning the prisoner’s cubes upside down, literally. They wouldn’t take to this game kindly. As Seungcheol stood with his back against the half wall of his cube – after Mingyu, Seungkwan and Soonyoung rushed back to their own dorm back in B Block – he looked over his shoulder to see one of the officers swiping all of his belongings off the metal, shelved compartment at the end of his bed. As for his bed, the mattress had been thrown onto the floor, bedsheets spilled around the officer’s boots just like his bunkmates on the other side.

 

And looking at his mattress, his stomach suddenly dropped.

 

Just this morning, Seungcheol had reminded his three to bring along any cell phone that they’d brought in under his name, to see how many they’d have left to give out. He’d told them to stash them in the hole he’d ripped in his mattress, and as he watched the officer kick the mattress out of the way one last time, his heart stopped for a moment. _Please God, don’t let those cell phones be found._

 

For a second or two, the male officer stopped and furrowed his brows at the mattress. Seungcheol whipped his head back to the front, unable to watch the CO discover more contraband.

 

But then, the officer strolled out of the bunk with empty hands. “ALL CLEAR!” he yelled, bringing Seungcheol to jump. He raised his eyes up to the ceiling and sighed as he walked back into his bunk, whilst the CO left the dorm and the inmates groaned in complaint at the new mess they’d been left with.

 

“You hidin’ something, Seungcheol?” his bunkmate asked through a grunt as he hauled his own mattress back onto his bed. Seungcheol’s bunkmate was on the older side, perhaps late fifties. He had no idea at all what he was in here for, but he knew it wasn’t the sort of question you asked in prison—sometimes it could hit a nerve with a man… but he was just so curious. He went by the name Nam, and luckily for Seungcheol, wasn’t too much of a bother. Perhaps this guy was only in here for money laundering, or fraud or something along those ‘non-violent’ lines. Age showed in his features quite evidently: old and lined skin, messy stubble, black hair with specks of grey, a deep and throaty voice.

 

“Why would you ever think that, Nam?” Seungcheol answered sarcastically as he did the same with his own mattress.

 

“Well, you look a little on the jittery side today. Looks like this day isn’t playin’ too kind with you,” Nam chuckled and stiffly sat down on top of his bed after tucking his thin sheet in and throwing his pillow back on. He wheezed and rubbed the joints in his thin wrists with a frown.

 

Seungcheol carried on tidying, picking up his belongings and placing them neatly back where they should be. A cell toss would always put the inmates in a terrible mood, including himself. With another loud sigh, Seungcheol fell onto his own bed and it creaked. He sat opposite Nam who patiently awaited his reply. “I keep thinking that soon I can take a break from this, y’know? Like this isn’t my forever. But it fucking is. I don’t get a holiday or a day off from this place. I can’t sleep at night knowing I won’t ever see my boys again once they’re gone. Knowing I’m leaving the King Riders up to them. I _am_ stressed, Nam, you’re right about that.” Seungcheol had never spoken so freely to another soul before. Seungcheol was always leader, always head, he had no time for vulnerability or help. It was a strange new feeling.

 

“Listen, kid,” Nam cleared his throat and shuffled forward to sit on the edge of his bed now, arms rested on his knees. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: I ain’t getting outta this place anytime soon, in fact, any time at all. I’ve been here for twelve damn years and I’ll be here until I die. I’ve been where you are now. You find ways to cope, and believe it or not, you find little sparks of joy here that make your time a little less painful. This is your home now, boy. You gotta learn to suck it up and adjust.”

 

Nam was right. He was so right. Seungcheol had to find a way to accept his sentence.

 

“Can I ask you somethin’, Nam?” Seungcheol built up the courage.

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Why’re you in here?”

 

There was a brief moment of silence before Nam sighed, “I like you, kid. So, I’ll let you know why. Long story short, my days of armed robbery – which I thought would last forever – didn’t last forever. I was young and stupid, what can I say? The delicious smell of money kept me going.”

 

“Were you any good?”

 

Nam grinned. “Was I any good? Ha! Every bank in Seoul wanted my partner and I dead! No cop could catch us—until they did. But hey, I know now that I deserve this whole life sentence. I was a real fucking prick,” Nam wheezed through a chuckle.

 

“Impressive shit.” Seungcheol was truly quite stunned.

 

“Now, now. I’ve heard of the shit you pulled out there, Seungcheol. Don’t act like bank robbery impresses you.”

 

“I never had to rob a bank for money. My business thrives,” Seungcheol replied, feeling cocky.

 

Nam sniggered at Seungcheol’s comeback, flashing his slightly stained teeth. “That, uh, you run a bar, don’t you? I heard it’s pretty popular in Gangnam.” His bar. Oh, Seungcheol missed it so much—from his office, to the taste of the whisky. He’d spoken on the phone at phone hours, and he knew Diamond Edge was still being run smoothly by his employees, which was one spark of joy for him.

 

He nodded eagerly. “My boys’ll know how to take care of it when they’re out.”

 

“You talking about us behind our backs, hyung?” Soonyoung’s playful voice sounded from outside the cube and Seungcheol glanced up as he, Mingyu and Seungkwan entered. Seungcheol was glad they were back; there was business to discuss.

 

Looking to Nam, he knew what to do, and the elder left the cube respectfully, most likely choosing to go to the TV room, or the library.

 

“Did they find anything in your cells? I got out clean, thankfully,” Seungcheol asked as Mingyu sat on Nam’s bed with Seungkwan.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Mingyu chuckled, “Unless you count Seungkwan’s disposable razor that got taken away in suspicion of a weapon.” His innocent smile grew.

 

Mingyu’s comment brought Seungkwan to pout. “I just like to be smooth!” he defended, lifting his leg onto the bed and pulling up his trouser leg to show off his hairless, tan skin. Mingyu laughed and pulled the fabric back over his shin.

 

“Don’t forget Jeonghan. He had _hooch_ in his cupboard, got a shot wrote down… and a slap in the face from officer Kim,” Soonyoung brought up from beside Seungcheol on the bed, his voice as loud as it always was.

 

A sharp pain of worry for Jeonghan hit Seungcheol, but he tried his best to conceal it. He frowned instead. “Where the fuck did he get booze from?”

 

“I watched him make it himself,” Soonyoung answered through a smile. “Tastes pretty good actually, he let me try some!”

 

“Jesus, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol scoffed, “Just because he’s your bunkmate, doesn’t mean you can drink his hooch and become best friends.”

 

“Coming from you, hyung?” Seungkwan commented from across the cube with a mischievous smile on his pink lips. Shit, Seungcheol wasn’t doing a very good at hiding this thing between he and Jeonghan.

 

Seungcheol cleared his throat, hiding the panic from his features. “Look, we’ve got shit to talk about.”

 

“Yeah, about the cell phones? We’re only halfway through the month, and we’re already rolling commissary snacks and cash! We’ve gotta get more in!” Soonyoung howled with joy and shot up from Seungcheol’s bed, dancing like he’d just snorted coke and he was at the high before the crash. Seungcheol scowled, grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down onto the bed with force.

 

“You’re not supposed to fucking be here, remember? This isn’t your dorm. CO sees you, you get a shot. You get one more shot added onto the long list you already have, you’re back in SHU. You want that?” Soonyoung shook his head. “So, quiet.”

 

“As I was saying,” Seungcheol mumbled and leaned forward. “I want updates on how everything’s going on everyone’s end since our supply is almost out for a while.”

 

“There’s been talk that Junhui’s lookin’ for a cell phone. Apparently, he wants to speak with the rat Jisoo,” Mingyu started. Seungcheol’s whole body tensed, every single muscle.

 

“Absolutely not,” he snapped coldly. “We’d never let a Neon Boy have one of our cells, even if they paid us a fuck-ton. And _especially_ if it’s to talk to that fuckin’ cop.” There was not one hint of remorse from Seungcheol towards Jisoo, or towards Junhui’s men. Especially as a prisoner now, cops were his worst fucking enemy, and his enemies were even more threatening.

 

“ _Ex_ cop,” Soonyoung uttered beside him.

 

Seungcheol carried on, “Make sure whichever cell phones are ours don’t fall into the hands of one of Junhui’s boys. Keep track of the inmates you distribute to and who they share with.”

 

“What if they get one?” Seungkwan spoke up.

 

“We teach them a lesson not to take from us.” Seungcheol didn’t even have to think about his answer. In prison, he could be as harsh as he wanted; there was no worse place to go.

 

“Shit! Seungcheol hyung isn’t messing around,” Soonyoung chuckled.

 

“No, I’m not. So, how is your side going, Soonyoung?” Seungcheol asked harshly, trying to knock some of his authority to Soonyoung. He looked next to him to the younger who stared back at him with a startled expression now.

 

“All good, sir,” he answered timidly.

 

“You don’t sound so sure,” Mingyu remarked, bringing Soonyoung to grimace his way.

 

“I mean, I’ve had a guard or two on my case. I think they might be onto me, but I can get rid of ‘em, show ‘em there’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“You better, Soonyoung; cells are the only way we can communicate with the outside without the fucking cops listening to our conversations. So, they’re more important than just snapping goddam dick pics or scrolling through Pinterest.” Seungcheol had seen it all. “Plus, I’ve got the inmates practically kissing my feet for a phone.”

 

“They’re not the only ones kissing you,” Seungkwan mumbled under his breath, followed by his giggles with Mingyu. Seungcheol frowned.

 

“If you’re gonna make juvenile remarks, Seungkwan, don’t be so fucking childish about it,” he hissed with harsh intent. And Seungkwan’s smile vanished. “I didn’t teach my men to act like boys, did I?” Seungkwan shook his head. Seungcheol was overwhelmed with stress today, he _really_ could’ve done with a release.

 

The rest of the conversation was even just as stressful, but at least Seungcheol had calmed Seungkwan’s sass for now. And when the boys left, Seungcheol threw his back onto his bed and sighed. His frustration was peaking, and he had no idea where to take it.

 

That was until – a few minutes later – a boy with caramel hair showed up in his cell. At first, Seungcheol had thought it was Nam, so he hadn’t said a word apart from roll onto his side to face the wall. But then, the bed sunk behind him and warm fingers began to play softly with his ear. He knew that touch.

 

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol croaked and twisted his body around again. He gazed up to the fond eyes that looked down on him. Immediately, he shot up when he noticed the bright red hand mark on Jeonghan’s, usually pale, cheek. “Shit! Officer Kim really didn’t hold back, did he?” He gently ran a finger along Jeonghan’s high and defined cheekbone.

 

Jeonghan chuckled and his cheeks rose under Seungcheol’s touch, “No, he didn’t. I’m okay, though. Officer Kim is a fucking dick who has no control out there so he does whatever he wants to us inmates in here, y’know? Makes him feel like a strong ‘nd powerful man.”

 

“Fuck, I hate the guards here,” Seungcheol spat venom.

 

“Are you okay? You seem pretty irritated.” Jeonghan spun around so he could sit on the bed and hook his legs around Seungcheol’s waist, pulling his body closer and placing his hands on Seungcheol’s knees who sat cross-legged. “Would you like some help?” Jeonghan uttered in a hot breath. There was a devilish smile on his lips and a glint in his eye.

 

“Help, huh? What kinda help?”

 

“Follow me, sir.” Jeonghan smiled wider with mystery as he got up from the bed and held his hand out for Seungcheol to take and pull himself up. Jeonghan’s skin was soft in Seungcheol’s hand.

 

Before they left the cube, Seungcheol stopped. “Wait. We can’t be seen together, you know that.”

 

“Shit, yeah. Uhm… meet me in the supply closet in C Block, yeah? Where we usually meet,” Jeonghan spoke quietly and winked at Seungcheol before walking away with the sway of his hips. Seungcheol watched him go.

 

He waited around five minutes, until he couldn’t take it anymore. Anticipation was overpowering and Seungcheol left for the supply closet. Not only was inappropriate contact between two inmates against prison regulations, but Seungcheol was also trying his best to keep it a secret—his thing with Jeonghan. So, the cupboard was their best option.

 

Upon entrance, after closing the door, Jeonghan wasn’t here. Seungcheol scrunched his brows. “Jeonghan?”

 

“BOO!”

 

Seungcheol almost jumped out of his fucking skin. Jeonghan had leaped out from behind a shelf and gave Seungcheol a fright. He was in a fit of giggles, but Seungcheol had other plans than to laugh about it and carry on. He decided to use this opportunity.

 

“You think that’s funny?” he asked in a deeper tone, approaching Jeonghan who’s laughs gently died down. Instead, he simply gave Seungcheol a mischievous smirk.

 

“I do, actually,” Jeonghan answered boldly, edging closer too. Seungcheol ran his hand through Jeonghan’s petal soft locks and grabbed the roots tightly to pull his head back. Jeonghan gasped quietly, smiling. Seungcheol started by placing hungry, wet kisses up Jeonghan’s supple neck, which sent pleased moans to leave Jeonghan’s parted lips. But Seungcheol needed more; today wasn’t a day to take his time, and he quickly smashed his lips against Jeonghan’s. His were so sweet, Seungcheol groaned.

 

Soon enough, Seungcheol’s back was against the back wall in the dim room, and Jeonghan’s tactful hands roamed his chest, and down his arms, to palming his crotch.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Seungcheol whispered into Jeonghan’s neck, feeling Jeonghan’s hand work on his hardening crotch through his prison uniform. This was the release he needed. Seungcheol slipped his hands underneath Jeonghan’s shirt and let them wander on Jeonghan’s smooth sides, and his tummy, and chest.

 

“You like that, hm? You want more?” Jeonghan asked in a sultry voice and dropped to his knees.

 

“Give me more.” Seungcheol watched as Jeonghan pulled down his pants and took out his hard member. “We better make this quick, Jeonghan,” he mentioned quietly as Jeonghan began to pump his hand on his dick. God, it felt so good. A wave a pleasure washed over him and his breaths became uneven.

 

“I would be quick, but… I wanna make you feel good, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan replied before placing little kitten licks on his member first, and then taking all of Seungcheol in his warm mouth. Seungcheol’s head dipped back and he moaned.

 

“Fuck, Jeonghan. Yuh-you feel amazing,” he breathed and thrusted his hips forward for more pleasure. Jeonghan swirled his wet tongue around on Seungcheol’s length and ever so slowly, quickened his pace. “Mmm…” Seungcheol whimpered. His fingers played with Jeonghan’s hair, fingers twirling around the locks and pulling. He felt the heat in his cheeks, and in the pit of his stomach as Jeonghan worked on him. When Jeonghan moaned himself, the vibration from his voice sent Seungcheol into pure bliss.

 

“Mm, you taste great,” Jeonghan stopped for a moment to speak through a toothy smirk.

 

“You’re not laughing now, huh?” Seungcheol chuckled deeply. Jeonghan kept his eyes on Seungcheol as he took him in his mouth again. Seungcheol didn’t shift his gaze. He cupped the back of Jeonghan’s head and pushed him closer as he got quicker.

 

As the moans from the two built, along with the pleasure, Seungcheol eventually came. His hip movements became sloppy as he reached his climax, Jeonghan’s name spilling from his swollen lips.

 

There, that was it—that was his release.

 

As the pleasure slowly melted away, Jeonghan got to his feet, wiping his mouth and swallowing as Seungcheol pulled up his trousers.

 

“Are you stressed now?”

 

“Not at all, baby.”

 

 

 

 

 

**_August - Seoul Correction Facility - Prisoner 9485-3384_ **

 

He opened his heavy eyes to the harsh white light of the dorm that had just blinked on. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but every morning, Mingyu would groan, throwing the thin bedsheet over his head and scrunching his eyes tightly shut. It was usually Seungkwan from the other side of their cube who had to wrench the cover from him and drag him out of bed. Though if Seungkwan wasn’t in high spirits that morning too, he’d climb in with Mingyu, and they’d both embrace in each other’s warmth. Mingyu liked those mornings more. Yet this morning was neither of those; this morning, he was to get up as soon as the lights were on, the crack of dawn, and make his way to the library where he was needed, or wanted.

 

Without another complaint to himself, or one more tired groan, Mingyu pushed himself out of bed and switched his prison sleepwear for his prison uniform, lacing up the clunky prison boots that were heavy and powerful on his feet. He rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair, before taking a look at Seungkwan who was fast asleep beneath his covers. Mingyu smiled, the boy looked so peaceful in his state of slumber, puffy cheeks poking over the bedsheet that was pulled up to his face.

 

Through the hallways, Mingyu only walked past a handful of inmates, most of them were the non-threatening ones—old or simply not here for trouble, just awake early enough to enjoy a peaceful breakfast. Oh, how Mingyu wanted to turn around and get his own breakfast in the cafeteria, but he couldn’t let Wonwoo down this morning.

 

The library – it was ever so hushed. Mingyu ran through what Minghao had told him. At the back of the library, behind the bookshelves in the corner, there was a little secret spot the CO’s didn’t know of. That was where Minghao did the guy’s tattoos, apparently where he also kept his pay. Inmates would pay him things like candy, drugs, cash, any type of contraband or item that would be considered as a luxury in prison.

 

There was no body as Mingyu weaved through the bookshelves, but he did hear the quiet conversation between what sounded like Minghao and Wonwoo, at the back of the room. Minghao was louder than Wonwoo, his Chinese accent notable when he was nothing but a disembodied voice that Mingyu grew closer to. Wonwoo’s tone was deep and monotone, far more hushed.

 

Mingyu stopped. He felt his heart thump wildly against his chest. He was nervous? Why was he nervous? This wasn’t the first time he was getting a tattoo, was it because it was a handmade gun? Or was he anxious because he was doing something that Seungcheol wouldn’t like: conversing with Rockets. Quietly letting out a breath, Mingyu pulled down on the end of his shirt and began to walk again. He crouched down, and knocked his fist on the surface of one of the lower shelves where the books parted. He heard the quiet music from the other side, sounded like they’d tuned into a radio station, but the music stopped after Mingyu had knocked, and he watched through the gap as Wonwoo, sitting on the floor, leaned across to investigate who was there. The pale boy’s eyes were sharp, and smoke left his lips.

 

“Come on, kid,” Wonwoo purred, a pleased smirk evident on his lips now. Mingyu followed orders and got to his feet again to walk around the bookshelf. He had never actually seen this hidey-hole before. It was decorated with posters of tattoo designs, or anything that could’ve been ripped from a magazine. On the floor, against the wall, there was what seemed to be a mattress from one of the prison beds, and pillows too. That was where Minghao sat, whilst Wonwoo sat on the floor, back against the bookshelves. “Fancy seeing you here,” Wonwoo chuckled, and turned up the little hand-held radio again.

 

“Come, sit,” Minghao said, patting the space beside him on the mattress. Mingyu sat, and felt Wonwoo’s looming gaze that didn’t leave him. Minghao cleared his throat. “Now, uh, let’s finish what we started, yeah?” he mumbled as he picked up the tattoo gun that was so obviously handmade. He touched the tip with his finger and looked to Mingyu, shuffling to get closer to work.

 

Mingyu was honestly astonished at the device in Minghao’s slender hands. He knew Minghao was a master at his job, but he didn’t realise he could make his own _tools_ for the job. “How the fuck did you make this, Minghao?” Mingyu asked and rolled up his sleeve to reveal the unfinished tattoo on his bicep, flashing his melanin skin too. In the corner of his eye, he spotted Wonwoo who bit his lower lip.

 

“A lot of trading for parts. It’s just a normal ink pen with a spinny thing from an old discman at the end, that drives the needle. Look, trust me, it works just as good as any other tattoo gun,” he explained, pushing down on the trigger of the ‘gun’ to make it spin and buzz. It was plugged in to the wall behind him.

 

“One more thing before we start,” Wonwoo spoke up and pulled out a small baggie from the breast pocket of his beige shirt, where his red nametag was clipped to. He pulled it open and licked his index finger before he dipped it in the bag, to coat his fingertip in the white substance, which seemed to be cocaine. He lifted his head to look at Mingyu with his devilish stare. Mingyu swallowed hard. The older approached on all fours since they were a mere step away from each other. But now, he was so much closer. Mingyu watched helplessly as Wonwoo gently pulled down his bottom lip with his thumb, and ran his ‘sugar-coated’ finger along his gum. The movement was slow and his finger lingered in his warm mouth, Mingyu resisted the urge to lick Wonwoo’s finger, or bite down playfully. The taste of the cocaine was incredibly bitter, but Mingyu held his grimace in and watched Wonwoo sit back again as he smiled at Mingyu and sucked the tip of his finger.

 

“Good shit, right?” he asked, and Mingyu felt his mouth become a little numb. He nodded. “That’s _my_ coke. Here, take a drag, it’ll make this process a little less painful.” Wonwoo handed over the cigarette he’d been smoking from to Mingyu. “There’s some more of that stuff on the end of that cigarette,” he said and Mingyu felt his eyes on him as he sucked on the stick that was already damp from Wonwoo’s mouth. Mingyu let the substance sit in his lungs before blowing out again, passing the cigarette back to Wonwoo.

 

Feeling a surge of pure bliss spike through his body, Mingyu moaned lightly as the smoke left his lips. “Fuck, where’s this imported from?” he breathed.

 

“China. You like it?” Minghao answered this time. Mingyu guessed this was his work, he must’ve still had connections across China. Mingyu nodded again. Minghao chuckled, “It’s almost pure, makes the junkies in here crazy about us Rockets. We’re putting every other provider in here outta business.”

 

“Yah, don’t get cocky, Minghao. Too much ego kills your talent,” Wonwoo quoted. Mingyu held in his snigger. He couldn’t believe what was coming from Wonwoo: the most egotistical man he knew, the man who used him for his own gain, but Mingyu simply couldn’t stay away from him and his radiant confidence. Perhaps Mingyu always came back because Wonwoo was everything Mingyu wanted to be: bold, successful, respected. Or did Mingyu just want to be a part of Wonwoo? Was Wonwoo just as insecure, deep down?

 

“You wanna buy from us?” Minghao asked, looking at Mingyu from his black bangs that were getting fairly long now. His dark eyes were still visible through the wispy strands, however.

 

Mingyu didn’t hesitate with his answer, “No. No way,” he snickered.

 

Minghao shrugged. “Okay, then. Are you ready?” He swept his bangs away from his eyes and adjusted himself so he was leaning on Mingyu’s upper arm, the gun hovering over his skin. “This’ll still hurt, even if you did just take a blow. But I guess it won’t hurt as much.”

 

Mingyu let Minghao know he was ready, and Minghao didn’t wait in getting to work. When Mingyu heard the buzz, he anticipated the pain, and it came quickly. He flinched. “Holy shit! Yeah, that still fucking hurts!” he yelped like a dog whose tail had been carelessly stepped on.

 

“Christ, you’re gonna be the reason the CO’s find this place,” Minghao grumbled over the hum of the gun and the tinny music from the stereo. Mingyu couldn’t believe—he’d only just opened his fucking eyes and he was already getting his arm inked by a rough-and-ready tattoo gun from a man he shouldn’t even be talking to.

 

Through the process, his skin burned, it burned more than the first time Minghao had worked on him, and he wondered how much more pain he would’ve been in if it wasn’t for Wonwoo’s cocaine-laced cigarette. He couldn’t stop the occasional groan or growl when the pain became overpowering, but he tried his best, grinding his teeth or clenching his fists. He didn’t want to look weak in front of any Rocket, especially Wonwoo who watched casually, eyes flicking from Mingyu to the magazine down in his lap.

 

“Did you know one of your friends buys from us, Mingyu?” Wonwoo suddenly brought up, closing the magazine shut and tossing it onto the floor. He leaned forward again to place his cigarette between Minghao’s lips as he worked. Minghao sucked in, then exhaled as Wonwoo sat back. The thin cloud of smoke rose into the already cloudy air. Luckily, there was a small vent just above them in the wall.

 

“What? Who?” Mingyu frowned through a scowl of pain. He couldn’t tell if this was a game of manipulation or truth. Wonwoo didn’t say a word, apart from bring his index fingers to beneath his eyes and point them diagonally, smirking. “Soonyoung? Soonyoung’s buying _your_ coke? Soonyoung’s _using_ coke?! What – ouch!” Mingyu yapped as Minghao moved up on his arm, causing a sting that felt like a snake had just sunk its fangs into his soft tan skin.

 

“Yeah, he doesn’t just _act_ like a crackhead…” Minghao giggled, yet somehow remained focused.

 

“Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to do, Wonwoo? I won’t tell Seungcheol – I can’t; Soonyoung’s ass would be fucking beat, no doubt,” Mingyu was tired of this shit. He spoke with a tone of threat, glaring down Wonwoo across from him.

 

Wonwoo stared back with just as much _hot and fiery_ determination that scorched Mingyu’s own eyes. “If you want us to keep your business and Soonyoung’s business with us hidden from Seungcheol’s ears, you’ve gotta do us a favour. Nothing’s for free in prison, kiddo.” He took another drag from the cigarette—it was almost all burned out by now, just like Mingyu’s patience with Wonwoo.

 

Mingyu sighed. He should’ve known from the moment Wonwoo said he didn’t have to pay him anything for this job that he’d want something else in return later down the line. Mingyu believed that, actually, there _were_ things that were free in prison, but not when it came from Jeon Wonwoo. Now, here he was, running around doing jobs for Wonwoo again. “What is it this time, Wonwoo?” he asked in defeat.

 

Wonwoo’s sharp lips curled upwards ever so slightly. He seemed to love it when he had Mingyu under control. “You’ve seen the barbers here, right? On D Block. You know we could do a much better job. And I think it’s time they were replaced. Y’know, you fuck them up so they can’t ever cut a man’s hair again, and we step in to take their jobs, yeah?” Mingyu chuckled in disbelief and shook his head. _Fucking horse-shit_. Wonwoo added on afterwards, “Don’t worry, you’ll have Soonyoung to help you. I’m sure he wants to keep his secrets safe too.”

 

All of a sudden, the sting on Mingyu’s arm felt so much worse. It irritated him like an awful bug bite. He shuffled a little and his jaw hardened. “And what if we get caught? What if someone sees and tells a CO?” he asked. There was no way in hell he was letting Wonwoo be the reason he was locked up in SHU – and most likely forgotten about – for mutilating an inmate or two.

 

“Trust me, that won’t happen. I’m putting Jihoon and Seokmin on guard while you and Soonyoung do the dirty work. The inmates won’t be snitching on you when they’re lying in their hospital beds in medical. Not even if a guard tried to force it outta their throat. They know they’d lose their life if they opened their mouth on us.”

 

“You’ve really thought this out…” Mingyu uttered and shifted his gaze to his arm where Minghao seemed to be finishing off. When the buzzing eventually stopped, Mingyu’s shoulders relaxed, and Minghao backed up to eye the tattoo.

 

Wonwoo spoke quieter this time, since now he only had to talk over the radio, “Of course, Kim Mingyu. I think of everything. _Some things more than others_ ,” his voice rolled into a purr towards the end, and the tip of his pink tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth to wet his curved lips. Mingyu’s stomach dropped. Shit—Wonwoo was coming onto him, anybody could’ve guessed that from the hungry flare in his feline eyes.

 

Minghao must’ve seemed to have missed a spot, and the tattoo nipped at Mingyu’s skin again. Mingyu jumped and let out a small whimper at the sudden pain, which brought Minghao to snap in a harsh tone, “Keep still, or I’ll ink a fucking dick on your arm instead.” He gripped tighter onto Mingyu’s arm and pulled closer. Mingyu did not move again after that; he knew for sure that Minghao would stick to his word.

 

“I, uh. I’ll think about it, Wonwoo,” Mingyu answered shakily.

 

“It wasn’t a fucking suggestion, Mingyu. It was an order.”

 

All of a sudden, Minghao stopped again and as Mingyu went to stand up, Minghao’s arm pinned him against the wall behind him, forcing him to stay sitting with his back pushed hard into the wall. Minghao’s arm was incredibly strong across Mingyu’s chest despite his body on the rather slimmer side, like Wonwoo. Mingyu knew he was the bigger build out of the three, he certainly had more muscle. But in this situation, he couldn’t use that against them. The slam was fairly loud when Minghao had forced him back, and Mingyu just hoped it hadn’t brought attention to them from an unwanted inmate, or even a guard.

 

Powerless, Mingyu watched Wonwoo twist his torso to stub the end of his cigarette on the bookshelf behind him. It sizzled and smoked until the light died, and Wonwoo flicked the cigarette onto the floor as he turned back around to face Mingyu again. This time, he stood up. Mingyu pressed the back of his head against the wall so he could look up at Wonwoo, who stepped closer. Minghao’s hold was still firm.

 

When Mingyu dipped his head, Wonwoo crouched down and held his face, harshly bringing it back up so Mingyu was forced to look into his eyes. His cold fingers pressed into Mingyu’s cheeks and jaw until it almost began to hurt. There were a few seconds where Wonwoo didn’t say a word, and simply wandered in Mingyu’s eyes. That was until his hand left his face and instead, slapped across his cheek.

 

Mingyu groaned in pain. But he nearly _liked it_ coming from Wonwoo…

 

“You’ll fucking do it, Mingyu. Because you’re good. And you’ll do anything for me.”

 

“I’m not a Rocket. I’d do anything for Seungcheol, not you-” Mingyu was cut off when Minghao forced him back into the wall, and took the air out of his lungs with the force. Mingyu coughed and wheezed. He was fucking sick of being beat, and so he only knew one way to get out of that.

 

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo tilted his head.

 

Mingyu sighed, “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath. “When do we do this?”

 

Wonwoo grinned. “Tomorrow night.”

 

 

 

**_August - Seoul Correction Facility - Prisoner 7684-4593_ **

 

The afternoons here were always, always lacklustre. At least for Chan they were, especially in the summer heat of August. All he could do was roll up his sleeves and hide indoors or under shade to keep cool. Since he was playing basketball with Hansol and Junhui, he could’ve taken off his shirt like they had, but he didn’t want to—not with the fresh scar on his chest. Instead, he endured the sun that beat down as he ran around the yard. By now, the tips of his hair were damp with sweat, and his skin was glistening with a slight sheen.

 

“Chan, here!” Hansol called out from across the yard, hands up. Chan could see the muscles work in his lithe body when he caught the ball after Chan threw it to him. It was them against Junhui; Junhui was surprisingly good at basketball, but he was also just cocky when it came to competition. Hansol pounded the orange ball into the concrete as he dribbled closer to the hoop, Junhui on his tail. Somehow, Hansol scored. Hand curved over the hoop and the ball rolled in, and he cheered. There was a huge gummy smile on Hansol’s pale face, a grin Chan hadn’t seen much of lately—it spread a warmth across his chest.

 

Chan cheered and ran to slam his palms against Hansol’s in the air. Junhui approaches with a defeated look on his face.

 

“Too bad, hyung!” Chan giggled and wrapped his arm around Junhui’s shoulder, almost having to get onto his toes to do so.

 

“One more game! I’ll win this time!” Junhui suggested, desperate to take a win. As much as Chan wanted to play, he hadn’t forgotten his other plans, and he had to leave Hansol and Junhui to play without him.

 

Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, Chan made his way out of the yard to go to the building not far, where inmates worked in electrical. He passed the two benches on the patch of grass and crept along the brick building, anticipating if Soonyoung was on the other side. He felt like a child—his heartbeat skyrocketed and before he turned the corner of the building, he shook away the nerves from his hands and feet. After a deep exhale, he put on a cool front, and walked around the back of the structure.

 

Soonyoung stood with his back rested against the wall, a fresh cigarette hung loosely from his lips, telling Chan he hadn’t been waiting too long. Chan was always in awe with Soonyoung’s composed yet powerful presence, and this moment was just like any moment he felt like that. Looking at Soonyoung now, whilst he hadn’t noticed Chan was here, he felt like he could’ve, would’ve, done anything for Soonyoung with every command. With piercing eyes and an even sharper jaw like that as he lifted his head to blow out the smoke, Chan was sliced into nothing but panicked pieces on the floor. His knees buckled when Soonyoung effortlessly turned his head when he spotted Chan.

 

“Hello stranger,” Soonyoung purred and smirked at Chan as he stepped closer. “Fuck, what have you been up to? You look so fucking delicious right now,” the elder gasped as he cupped Chan’s damp face with his large hands.

 

“Playing basketball, actually.” Chan grinned, delighted to see Soonyoung was happy to see him.

 

Soonyoung pouted. “I missed out on watching you get hot and heavy?” He swiped a lock of hair from Chan’s glistening forehead. Chan held his breath for a moment.

 

“You could say that. But I’m here now, hyung. And I’m still hot.”

 

“I can see,” Soonyoung giggled. His smile was so bright, Chan wanted to kiss him.

 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered timidly, briefly looking to the ground out of embarrassment.

 

“My God, Chan,” Soonyoung growled before swiftly pulling Chan’s lips onto his own, hand on his jawline. Chan took that as a yes, and eagerly kissed back. Soonyoung’s lips tasted smoky, but Chan didn’t mind it—he liked everything about Soonyoung, he liked the taste on him. He loved him. Soonyoung grew keener and the kisses deepened as Chan’s heartbeat heightened. Soonyoung huffed and growled, stomping on his cigarette he’d dropped on the floor so he could use two hands to grip Chan’s waist, as Chan was against the wall. Chan had one hand in Soonyoung’s hair, and the other digging into the elder’s back. He could feel the muscles move in Soonyoung’s back as he rolled into Chan.

 

Soonyoung’s lips moved to Chan’s neck, and he muttered, “I wish I could mark you, baby. I wish I could show people you’re mine.” His wet lips moved against the soft skin of Chan’s neck, his sweet spot, and he whined. Soonyoung used his fingers to hook the neckline of Chan’s grey shirt, that was beneath his beige one, to expose more of his chest.

 

Before Soonyoung could press his lips against his skin there, Chan shoved him off in a panic.

 

Soonyoung stumbled back, a concerned look on his face.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry, hyung!” Chan cried, rushing forward to hug Soonyoung tightly. Chan knew why he’d pushed Soonyoung away at that very moment, he simply didn’t know how to validate his actions to Soonyoung. “I just-”

 

“I know, baby,” Soonyoung’s raspy voice hummed as Chan rested his head on the elder’s chest. “I get it, it’s a touchy topic for you. And the scar is just a constant reminder. It’s my own fault for pulling down your shirt, I just thought you’d be okay with me.”

 

Chan didn’t know what to say. Bringing the memories back up from that night always made him well up, and he couldn’t help the tears from falling from his eyes and soaking into Soonyoung’s shirt. He let out a small sob, which made Soonyoung notice he was crying. Soonyoung didn’t say anything but lead Chan back to the wall and sit down. They rested their backs on the wall, sitting on the grass, and Chan brought his knees up to his chest and leaned into Soonyoung’s open arms, head buried in his chest again. The hushed cries continued in the quiet afternoon.

 

Something about Soonyoung’s embrace made Chan feel obliged to let his emotions out.

 

“I got you. It’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay, Chan,” Soonyoung comforted him ever so gently. Chan felt as he rubbed one hand up and down his back, as the other hand laced between Chan’s own that was trembling. “Trust in me,” Soonyoung whispered softly as he dipped his head to be closer to Chan’s ear. The warmth of his breath on Chan’s skin was so inviting, it sent a comforting tingle down Chan’s spine.

 

“It’s such an ugly scar, hyung. I don’t want it on me,” Chan admitted through a hiccup. He was bold in himself to open up about his biggest insecurity.

 

“It’s beautiful, Chan. Everything about you is fucking beautiful – everything. Don’t let it get you down, and rather embrace it. You survived the shot, baby. That scar is a symbol of your strength, as cliché as it sounds,” Soonyoung chuckled towards the end, bringing his chest to rise and fall as Chan’s head was still rested on it. “I want to love every part of you. Please let me.”

 

“Okay, hyung,” Chan sniffled, “I’ll let you. I trust in you.”

 


End file.
